


Hyouhaku

by NLJ21



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hope has a cat, Hope is tired, I'm tired, So much talking, The summary is only for the first chapter but I don't wanna change it so idk, Truth Serum, Truth or Dare, Underage Drinking, and i hate most of it, because I love cats, this story is dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:28:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 48,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23965411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NLJ21/pseuds/NLJ21
Summary: Lizzie’s face tells everyone who bothers to look at her that she could have lived without knowing this information.Once the initial surprise cooled off, Rafael broke out into contagious laughter. “God,” he wipes a tear away and laughs some more, “this goes to all of you: Just bang it out.” He laughs again.Josie is face palming, trying her best to ignore Penelope and Hope. “I swear someone put a truth potion in the alcohol.”Lizzie snorts in response. “And why would anyone do that?”-Or,a game of truth or dare. Unknowingly, they drink a truth serum.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson & Lizzie Saltzman, Hope Mikaelson & Rebekah Mikaelson, Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman, Hope Mikaelson/Penelope Park, Hope Mikaelson/Penelope Park/Josie Saltzman, Josie Saltzman & Lizzie Saltzman, Lizzie Saltzman/Rafael Waithe, Penelope Park/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 95
Kudos: 462





	1. Chapter 1

Hanging out with friends is not something Hope Mikaelson does. Even if she wanted to, which she doesn’t, she wouldn’t be able to since she does not have any friends.

Normally she avoids all the parties, isn’t keen on the people there, but New Orleans left its mark on her; the desire to drink and party is an all too familiar feeling. It just seems natural to her, partying, drinking to make life more bearable, while listening to great Jazz or stupid modern music.

Sometimes, rarely, she does go to the parties, to get drunk, to drown her sorrows in alcohol, which is still better than some of her other ways of coping. And today is such a day, a day on which she goes to a stupid party, hell-bent on getting wasted, on forgetting.

Once there, in the decorated gym, she first is approached by Landon and Rafael, both still hoping that they have a chance with her, optimistic as always. Maybe, if things had gone differently, she and Landon could have been a thing.

He is cute, always sweet and nice to her and everybody, and he did make her smile on a very bad day with a silly dance. Nevertheless, he doesn’t know when to stop, always pushing her to talk and trying to be her friend when she made it clear that she isn’t interested.

Additionally, he is quite boring; there is nothing about him that interests her, nothing that keeps her thinking about him. He is just, well, bland.

Then there is Rafael. Good looking, troubled, and a way more interesting person to talk with. She enjoys talking to him and occasionally they do actually talk, but of course, he falls in love with her – as if a guy cannot talk to a girl without crushing on her.

Most importantly, though, she doesn’t do boyfriends or girlfriends or friends or even having anyone close.

She drowns the rest of her cup before leaving them behind.

Yeah, she might be an asshole for more or less ignoring them, but she made it clear that she isn’t interested and she is absolutely not in the mood for socializing. She blames herself more than them, really. After all, it is a party, so it’s only natural that they would approach her. It’s not their fault that she is in a bad mood.

Sadly, or luckily, she next runs into another person. At least she is infinitely more interesting than the two guys.

“Mikaelson,” the girl greets, raising her cup.

“Penelope,” Hope responds. On a different day, Hope might have offered her a smile, their frenemy-ish relationship, if you can even call it that, being one of the most fun things she has at the school. But today is shit, so she wears a blank face.

Thankfully Penelope is smart, smarter than most people here, so she is bearable, even now.

“How did you lose yourself here?” Penelope asks, eyeing her skeptically. Before Hope can reply, Penelope continues, “Bad day?”

“Mhm,” Hope hums, knowing that Penelope already knows the answer.

“Wanna join me?”

“Depends on if you’re gonna talk,” Hope says, disinterested.

“Lizzie invited me and some other people for truth or dare,” she explains.

“You won’t go there, will you? Knowing Lizzie, she probably has something planned,” Hope says.

“Of course, she would never invite me otherwise,” Penelope agrees. “But I plan on crushing her plans,” she says with a devilish glint in her eyes.

“And what would Josie say about this?”

“Not everything is about Josie. Sometimes I just want to have fun. Well, what do you say? Wanna be my partner in crime?” Penelope smirks with the confidence as if Hope already said yes.

“Oh come on, you need some fun,” she insists.

“Yeah, fun, alone,” Hope counters plainly.

“Sure, you do you. If you change your mind, we’ll be at the Old Mill in half an hour,” Penelope informs her and leaves Hope behind.

She finds herself a lonely corner and drinks. For some time she observes her fellow students.

Landon and Rafael leave, Penelope leaves, Kaleb and M.G. leave, Lizzie and Josie, however, are still there. From the looks of it, Lizzie gestures for Josie to go ahead. Josie agrees and makes her way out.

On the way her eyes catch Hope’s and she smiles warmly. Hope only raised her cup in response. Josie waves her hand, signaling that Hope should come to her.

Sighing, Hope closes her eyes and takes a last sip. Most likely Josie will also ask her about the truth and dare game. It feels a bit silly, that they have planned for this stupid game and that they will leave the party for it.

She crosses over to the siphoner, not knowing why exactly she is doing it. Probably for the slim chance that Josie has something else to say.

Unfortunately, her intuition was right. Now she has to tell Josie that she won’t join them.

“I know you will say no but I had to ask,” Josie says before Hope could reply. “You know, friends are fun, you should give them a try,” Josie says with a smile, alcohol pulsing through her system.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hope hears her mom’s words about not isolating herself. She knows she will regret this, she is certain of it, but she relents. At the very least, there will be more alcohol, so even if it turns out to be shit, which it probably will, she can still get drunk.

“Okay,” she says, sighing.

“What?”

“I will join you.”

“Great. Nice. You won’t regret it.”

Instead of telling her that will most certainly will, she says, “I can’t promise to stay.”

“Oh, sure, leave whenever you want. It’s just a stupid game, nothing important.”

“Well, let’s go.”

Josie leads the way out of the gym, Hope lazily strolling behind, already questioning her decision. She thinks about Penelope and wonders what Lizzie might have planned. Soon they are outside, making their ways through the woods towards the Old Mill.

Josie remains quiet but Hope sees her stealing glances at her and sees her smile.

“Why are you smiling so much?” Hope asks, breaking the silence.

The question seems to startle the siphoner for a second. Slowing down so that she is next to Hope, she mockingly answers, “I’m just so happy that you are coming with me.” She hopes her tone hides the fact that she is, in fact, telling the truth. The game is a great opportunity to get to know more about the always isolating tribrid – it’s exciting.

“Mhm,” Hope says, not believing Josie. Then, sounding bored, “Excited because someone will certainly dare you to kiss Penelope?” Hope prods.

Josie’s expression falls, as if she hadn’t thought about this possibility. A mixture of hope and heart ache settles in her face. “I didn’t think of this,” she replies quietly.

“You can always drink instead of kissing her, assuming that we are playing with this rule,” Hope says, offering Josie a way out. Admittedly, this only works if the dare is for Josie and not for Penelope. Although, thinking about it, Penelope isn’t one to do things that Josie wouldn’t want, the only exception being everything regarding Lizzie.

“Thanks for caring,” the siphoner says, to Hope’s confusion. It doesn’t last long. Once she considered their long history and her lack of interest, Josie’s words do make a lot of sense.

“Don’t confuse small talk with caring,” Hope says, trying to look serious, but the small tug of her lips, the barest hint of a smile, lets Josie know that she doesn’t mean it.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” Josie asks. “You can’t not poke. You just have to.”

Hope shrugs her shoulders and looks down, hiding a smile.

“Why, though?”

Hope looks up, into genuine eyes. It’s a good question, one that she has asked herself many times, but one that has a very simple answer. Josie doesn’t need to know this, though.

“It’s in my DNA,” she says, raising an eyebrow, challenging Josie to continue probing.

Scoffing but smiling, Josie replies, “So it’s a family thing, huh?”

Hope looks down, the ache in her chest that has come up with the simple word ‘family’ forcing her to hide her emotions. Instinctively, she moves her fingers over her ring that has the Mikaelson M engraved.

Normally she wouldn’t react to this word so severely, wouldn’t react at all, but today – well, today she isn’t keen on family talk.

Josie notices her shift but isn’t exactly sure what caused it. Deciding to fill the silence, she just says the first thing that comes to her mind. “We’re almost there.”

Whatever it was, Hope seems to have snapped out of it, replying, “Yeah, I know where the Old Mill is.”

“Well, in case you didn’t know, I just wanted to inform you.”

“How considerate,” Hope responds dryly,

“I know, right?”

They arrive at the Old Mill. Josie walks in first, smiling and being smiled at by the people in the room. Four couches are set up around a table, the students occupying the couches already by lying on them.

Surprised eyes meet Hope once she gets in. Penelope raises her eyebrows, clearly questioning her why she accepted Josie’s invitation and not hers, but she makes room and gestures for Hope to sit next to her. Hope only shrugs in response as she sits down next to her.

“You’re here?” Landon asks. He is sitting next to Rafael, who himself is positioned next to Jed, and the surprise in his voice apparent and weirdly annoying to Hope.

“Your eyes work, wow,” Penelope mocks, beating Hope for the reply.

“What’s your problem with me?” Landon asks.

“I don’t have a problem with you,” Penelope answers, sounding amused.

“Then why are you so mean to me?”

“Dude, she is always like this, no matter who you are,” Kaleb explains. He is sharing a couch with M.G.

Hope glances at Josie, the one exception to what Kaleb has said. The siphoner is looking at Penelope, longingly, Hope would say. Her eyes move over to the tribrid, the same affection lingering in her eyes.

“Great, she’s a bully,” Landon utters.

Lizzie storms in and closes the door behind her, silencing all conversations and taking all eyes on her. She scans the room, quickly glaring at Penelope and stopping at Hope.

After a moment of staring, she turns to Josie, who explains, “I invited her.”

Surprisingly, Lizzie doesn’t kick her out nor does she comment at all. She only shrugs and sits down next to her sister.

Pushing her hair back and collecting herself, she asks, “You all know the rules, right?” She goes on once everybody nodded or murmured some form of affirmation.

“Let’s just go clock wise,” Penelope says with a fresh cup of bad tasting alcohol in her hand. “A bottle is so random, someone could be left out,” she goes on, focusing on Lizzie. She has no idea if Lizzie has something planned or, more likely, what she has planned; maybe she spelled the bottle so that it will never point in her direction.

“Okay,” Lizzie responds, her smile challenging and knowing.

Penelope is still wary but nods.

Raising her cup, Lizzie looks around, waiting until everyone has their cups raised as well. “Cheers!” she says and watches as everyone but her drinks.

“Who wants to start?” she asks.

“I’ll go ahead,” Landon says.

“So,” Lizzie is watching Penelope, “Who is asking the question, then?”

“Whoever has the best one,” Penelope replies smugly. “But first: Truth or dare, Landon?”

“Truth,” he replies and takes a sip.

“Do you have a crush on someone in this room?” Penelope asks, smiling.

“Really? What are you, twelve?” Landon counters.

“You said truth. Now answer the question. Do you have a crush on someone in this room?”

“Yes,” he says, looking at Hope, shocked that he actually said it. Hope groans, falling deeper into the couch. Penelope snickers, grinning at the tribrid. Hope is already contemplating leaving. Why did she come here?

“Anyway,” Lizzie drawls. “Next.” Her eyes focus on Rafael, the next one in line. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare, but please don’t make me kiss anyone,” he replies, glancing between Penelope and Lizzie, the most likely suspects to do this.

“Can you handstand?” M.G. asks.

“Sure.”

“Handstand for five minutes,” the vampire says.

“Easy enough,” the wolf replies, standing up and almost losing his balance. Performing a handstand while tipsy, maybe not the best idea, but a dare is a dare, he won’t back down. So, after catching the skeptic eyes of his peers, he brings his hands to the floor and kicks up.

His shirt is falling down, obscuring his vision and exposing his abs.

He hears whistles, not sure by whom, and after some time, he wonders if anyone is keeping track of the time.

“How long?” he questions, the effort of talking while standing on his hand clearly hearable.

The others break out in laughter when they realize that they did not pay attention to the time.

“Just another two minutes,” Kaleb says.

Rafael groans in response, his hands and arms tiring and his rising dizziness making the position increasingly hard to hold.

They start counting down at the thirty seconds mark and when they arrived at one, Rafael all but fell down. His red and sweaty face revealing exhaustion while he kneels on the floor. He stands up and falls back down. Luckily for him, he lands on the couch, or to be more precise, on Jed.

The former alpha pushes him off, leaving Rafael back in his spot between Landon and him.

“So, Jed, truth or dare?” Penelope asks, her eyes glinting. She seems to have so much fun with this game.

Adverting his eyes from Rafael, who looks like he is about to throw up, he turns his attention to the witch and says, “Truth.”

“I have a question,” Josie speaks up, seeking confirmation to ask.

“Well?” Jed asks.

“Are you gay? I don’t know, you give me major gay vibes.”

Penelope bursts out laughing, already knowing the answer, while Jed is blushing slightly. Hope takes a look at him, considering Josie’s words. Possible, certainly possible, she thinks.

“Gay? No,” Jed says with the smugness as if he tricked the question.

“Really? Don’t tell me that you are bi and evaded the question,” Josie says.

“Well, you’ll have to be more specific with your questions,” Jed replies, smirking and drinking.

Josie rolls her eyes, then she focuses on the next person. The tension immediately rises once everybody realizes that it is Penelope’s turn.

“Satan, truth or dare?”

The witch in question blows Lizzie a kiss. “Let’s keep it moderate. Truth.”

Immediately, Landon, feeling like a savage, asks, “Do you have a crush on someone in this room?”

Everyone groans since every single person at Salvatore’s knows that Penelope is eternally in love with Josie Saltzman.

“What a waste,” Kaleb comments and Lizzie glares at Landon.

“Just answer the question and we can get it over with,” Hope says, the game not entertaining her in the slightest, but probably nothing can on this day.

“Don’t worry, Hope, you have soft spot in my black heart, too,” Penelope replies, asking herself why she said this. She hides the slight embarrassment that she’s feeling behind her cup, drinking some more. “Well, you all know that my heart belongs to Josie.”

Turning her attention to the left, Penelope looks at Hope. “Truth or dare, Mikaelson?”

“Truth”, she mumbles, already fearing the questions.

The room turns quiet. Hope is not one to answer questions, so they have a rare opportunity now.

“You’re gonna ask something or what?” Hope snaps, the suspense killing her.

“What’s your favorite memory?” Josie finally asks, taking the initiative.

The question is like a blow to the liver for Hope. Closing her eyes, she focuses on her breathing, trying to remain calm. She feels Penelope’s hand on her back and can hear her whispering.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Of course,” Hope responds and opens her eyes again. Everyone is looking at her. “My favorite memory is probably the first time,” and only time, “I painted with my dad,” she says quietly.

Guilt overcomes Josie. She hopes her secret fire didn’t destroy this painting. No one comments, instead focusing on Josie.

“Truth,” she says before anyone can ask.

“You’re all so boring,” Lizzie comments, quickly glancing at Rafael. “Only picking truth, so boring.”

Penelope is about to say something, but Josie beats her to it. “You can choose dare if you want it so much,” Josie snaps. Lizzie’s eyes widen momentarily, but she seems to understand.

Penelope lays back, happy with what Josie said.

“With how many people have you had sex with?” Kaleb asks.

“One,” Josie answers with a shrug.

“Of course,” the vampire chuckles.

“Finally,” Lizzie exclaims. “Dare.”

“Should I just do it?” Penelope asks the group. “We all know she wants it.”

Actually, Hope has no idea what she is talking about, but soon catches the meaning behind Penelope’s words when she sees the witch looking at Rafael.

“Lizzie, please just get it over with and kiss Rafael,” Penelope says.

The siphoner tries to hide her happiness behind a glare, but it’s apparent that this is exactly what she wanted. Graciously, too gracious for the amount of alcohol that should be in her system, she walks to Rafael.

The wolf stands up, Lizzie stopping in front of him. She looks up at him, expectant eyes watching him. It’s a short kiss, but it is enough for Lizzie to return to her seat with a smug expression. 

Josie, Penelope, and Hope all simultaneously roll their eyes while M.G. looks absolutely crushed.

“M.G., truth or dare?” Landon asks.

“Uh,” he is shaking his head, trying to shake it off, “Dare.”

“Of course,” Penelope mutters.

“Dance for us,” Lizzie says. “You love dancing, don’t you?”

“Sure,” he replies unenthusiastically. He dances a bit but his broken heart is showing in his slow and sloppy movement, leaving Penelope to order him to sit down.

“Kaleb”, she says.

“Truth.”

“How many have you had?” Penelope asks.

“Two.”

“Landon.”

“Yes?”

“Truth or dare.”

“Oh, yeah. Uhm, truth?”

“Don’t you dare ask anything about me,” Hope tells Penelope who replies that she’d never do that.

“Besides Hope, who is, in your opinion, the hottest person in the room?” Penelope asks. All she receives is stunned silence, everyone thinking about the question.

“This might be,” Landon says, “the hardest question anyone has ever asked me.”

“I know, I’m great.”

Slowly, he lets his eyes scan everyone, taking a long time to decide. He takes his time to appreciate everyone’s beauty. It’s insane, he thinks, how beautiful everyone in this room is.

Finally he decides. “Josie.”

“I gotta hand it to you, Landon, your taste in women is excellent,” Penelope says laughingly. Josie is blushing slightly. Hope is looking at the siphoner, suppressing a smile.

“Truth,” Rafael says once the attention is on him.

“I kinda want to ask you the same question but I have a feeling that this might ruin the evening,” Penelope says, looking from Rafael to Lizzie.

“What’s your favorite memory?” Josie asks - for some reason she loves this question.

Looking at Landon, Rafael says, “The day we were accepted here at the school.” Landon nods, agreeing with him.

“Jed,” Josie begins, “Are you queer in any way, be it bi, pan, ace, whatever?”

“Yes,” he simply replies.

Realizing that she doesn’t know anymore than before and that she wasted the question, Josie pouts.

“I didn’t even say truth, by the way.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“I would have said truth anyways,” he chuckles, enjoying teasing her.

It’s Penelope’s turn again. Josie was about to ask her the favorite memory question, but then she remembered that it’s likely that she is a part of it and decided against it.

“Okay, before you kill me,” Landon begins, “What do you think about asking her the same question she asked me?”

“Dude, I already forgot the question,” Kaleb says and chuckles.

“Who is the hottest person in the room,” Landon repeats the question.

“Except Josie,” Hope says and adds, when she is met with mildly shocked eyes, “Because that would be the obvious answer for her.”

“Nice save,” Penelope whispers so that only Hope could hear her.

“So? You agree with me?” Landon seeks confirmation, not wanting to embarrass himself again.

“Sure.”

In contrast to Landon, Penelope doesn’t even hesitate for a second. “Hope,” she answers immediately. For a second she seems to be surprised by the quickness, but the surprise turns into a smirk.

“You are such a tease,” Hope says, rolling her eyes.

“Oh yeah? And why are you in such a mood?” Lizzie asks aggressively.

“It’s the anniversary of my mom’s death.” Her eyes widen and her mouth is left open. She can’t believe she just said this out loud. How- she would never share this.

The atmosphere in the room changed. Penelope is sitting with her hand holding her head, face palming; Lizzie presses her eyes shut, scolding and asking herself why she has such a talent for embarrassing herself. A few sympathetic eyes watch Hope.

“Well, Josie, your turn,” Hope speaks, hoping to move on.

“Uh, truth.”

The atmosphere is still down, no one saying anything, so Hope speaks up. “What is your kink, Josette Saltzman?”

Josie is too flustered to speak up, so Penelope answers. “Oh, she _loves_ taking care of you, if you know what I mean, but she loves nothing more than being eaten out. You should hear when-“ Penelope stops, blinks a few time, opens her mouth, closes it again, and leans back.

Josie is hiding behind her cup. Hope looks amused.

No one says anything.

“Truth,” Lizzie hesitantly says.

“Any kinks?” M.G. asks jokingly.

“No!”

“Right,” M.G. replies. “Truth.”

“Are you a virgin?” Rafael asks.

Feeling embarrassed, M.G. mutters, “Yes.”

“Truth.” Kaleb clears his throat and leans forward, preparing for the question.

“Who are the two lucky ones that got to be intimate with you?” Penelope asks.

“Hell no, I’m not gonna violate their privacy,” he replies passionately. 

“Fine. Favorite sex position, then.”

“Missionary. I know, how boring.”

They continue for more rounds, the dares eventually completely stopping and only truths remaining. Eventually, Josie got Jed to reveal that he is, in fact, bi. She didn’t stop smiling for a solid five minutes after this. They were quite shocked when Hope told them that she is a virgin, but it made sense when she explained the obvious, that she is always alone and lets no one close.

As the alcohol takes more and more of an effect, Hope becomes more comfortable. Her touch starved brain even made her lean into Penelope for a second. The witch didn’t mind, Hope, however, pulled away once she realized what she was doing.

Landon, M.G., and Jed eventually left, going back to the party.

So the twins, Hope, Penelope, Kaleb, and Rafael are left. Lizzie changed her place, sitting down next to Rafael and Kaleb took her old position, now sitting next to Josie.

“Do you wanna continue?” Josie asks and receives affirmative hums.

Once it’s Hope’s turn again, Penelope leans close and smiles. With a raspy voice she asks, “Did or do you have a crush on anyone in this room?”

“And if yes, who is it?” Josie adds, having learnt from her previous mistakes.

Looking back at Penelope, Hope easily replies, “I once had a crush on Josie when I was 14.” The tribrid doesn’t see how Josie freezes at this.

Josie isn’t sure if she should laugh or cry about this news. If this is true, then that had to be at roughly the same time she crushed on Hope. Oh the irony.

“Great taste,” Penelope comments, still staring into Hope’s eyes.

“Don’t worry, Penelope, you have soft spot in my black heart, too.”

It takes a second until Penelope realizes that Hope used the same words she used earlier. It takes another second until she realizes the implications.

Her eyebrows rise to the sky.

“You had a crush on me?” she asks, disbelieving. Of all things, she never expected this.

“I already answered the question. You’ll have to wait until next round. Josie, your turn.”

Josie is still recovering from this news. She never told anyone about her crush on Hope, not even Penelope.

“Truth, of course,” she replies.

Laughing, Rafael asks a question he thinks he knows the answer to, but Josie Saltzman is good for a surprise, it seems.

“If you could have sex with anyone in this room, who would it be?” he asks.

“Hope and Penelope at the same time,” she answers immediately. Never before has she been this embarrassed in her life. And she doesn’t know how she came to this answer, the thought never crossed her mind before, only now after Hope’s answer did she think about it.

Hope almost chokes on her drink, Penelope looks equally as shocked.

Lizzie’s face tells everyone who bothers to look at her that she could have lived without knowing this information.

Once the initial surprise cooled off, Rafael broke out into contagious laughter.

“God,” he wipes a tear away and laughs some more, “this goes to all of you: Just bang it out.” He laughs again.

Josie is face palming, trying her best to ignore Penelope and Hope.

“I swear someone put a truth potion in the alcohol,” she mutters, still feeling incredibly embarrassed. She can’t believe she said this, she would never say something like this.

Lizzie snorts in response. “And why would anyone do that?”

Josie just mutters Kaleb’s name for the game to continue.

“Kaleb,” damn, she sounds drunk as fuck, “Would you go down on a girl?” Penelope asks.

“Of course,” the vampire replies confidently.

“Don’t say of course. Many boys, or girls for that matter, wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, I do.”

“Good boy. Lizzie,” Penelope shouts, “Your turn, my friend.” Giggling, she leans back, into Hope’s arm.

Lizzie isn’t nearly drunk enough to deal with this shit. “Well, do you have a question, my _friend_?”

Rafael snickers at that, making Lizzie smile. 

“Why do you hate me so much?” Hope asks.

“I could ask you the same question,” Lizzie replies, scoffing.

Josie is cowering deeper into the coach - this time not because of embarrassment, but because of guilt and fear.

“I don’t hate you and you have to answer, unless you want to be the first person to drink instead of being truthful.”

“Well, which of the thousand reasons do you wanna hear?” Lizzie spits.

“The real one,” Hope answers seriously.

“Really? You need to ask this? Wow,” she is shaking her head “You are really something else.”

“What are you talking about?” Hope questions, confused.

“Mh, I don’t know, Hope. Maybe I’m talking about how you always refused to be our friend every time we tried to reach out to you. Maybe I’m talking about you burning your room to sabotage our spring trip.”

“What?”

“Maybe I’m talking about that you told everyone that I’m witch bipolar. So Hope, why would I hate you?”

“I’m definitely guilty of pushing you away, but I did not burn my own room. And I certainly did not spread anything about your condition. I would never, “she speaks empathically and earnestly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Lizzie dismisses.

“Lizzie, I did not do this,” Hope insists.

“I know from a trusted source that you did, so stop lying.”

“Who? Who told you this?”

Lizzie glances at Josie, who has pushed herself even deeper.

Hope’s eyes widen at the realization. “Josie? Wha- why?” No way, there is no way that the one person who has always been nice to her has done this.

“I might have slipped a note under your door and, in my gay panic, I tried to destroy it with a fire spell that got kinda out of hand?” She pushing her eyes shut, afraid of the reactions.

Lizzie is staring disbelievingly while Hope looks hurt, deeply hurt.

“What about the rumors?” Hope continues.

“Also me. I made it up. I’m so sorry.”

Hope scoffs, falling back against the back of the couch. “Why?” she simply asks, furious.

“I had to keep my crush on you a secret. I’m so, so sorry.”

Penelope can’t help herself, she laughs, the thought of little gay panicked Josie is too funny for her. Rafael is shifting uncomfortably next to the perplexed looking Lizzie.

Hope mutters something that Josie can’t hear. Shaking her head, she is almost laughing. “Of course you had a crush on me. Of fucking course.” She sounds bitter.

“You?” Lizzie asks. “I-I can’t believe this,” she says and storms out. Josie lets her head fall.

“Can you please go after her?” she asks Rafael. “I would, but she most certainly doesn’t want to see me.”

“Sure.” He flashes her a quick smile and is gone a second after.

“So to be clear, your lie led to years of animosity between Hope and Lizzie and all because you were afraid that Lizzie would know about your crush?” Kaleb asks.

“Thanks for the summary, Kaleb, that’s exactly what happened.”

“Why wouldn’t you just tell us?” Hope asks. “It’s been years. You were what, twelve, thirteen years old back then?”

“Your reactions are the very reasons why I kept it secret,” Josie explains.

“You could have told me at least,” Hope counters.

“You didn’t tell me about your crush on me either, so…”

“Did you know about this?” Hope turns to Penelope who shakes her head.

“I did not know,” she says.

Hope looks at Josie, closes her eyes while simultaneously releasing a breath. Then, a smile forming, “We could have been a thing back then,” she says.

“That’s your take away from this?” Penelope questions. “Are you sure you’re not still crushing on her?”

“Anyway,” Kaleb interrupts, “Are we gonna play some more?” he asks, his voice teasing.

His comment breaks the ice, earning a few laughs.

“I have no idea whose turn it is,” Penelope confesses. “I can go on if you want. Ask me anything, my special unicorn.” She leans into Hope, pressing her into the side of the couch.

“Get off me.”

“Nope. We both know you like the contact.”

It’s true, so Hope keeps her mouth shut.

“Since we are already talking about gay panic,” Josie mutters, the mix of embarrassment and guilt of the last few minutes seriously messing with her feelings, “What was your worst moment of gay panic?” she asks.

“Oh, that’s easy,” the brunette replies, still leaning against Hope who, by now, has put her arms around Penelope. “That was before I asked you out for the first time. I was sooo nervous,” she chuckles as she says it.

“What, really? You looked so confident.” Josie can’t really believe it. Penelope is, like, the definition of confidence in her mind, to know that she was nervous before asking her out is making her feel oddly accomplished.

“Well, I’m good at faking,” Penelope replies with a wink. “Wait – that sounded wrong. I never faked an orgasm with you. I’m good at pretending, that’s what I meant.”

“Good to know,” Josie says, nodding and suppressing a smile.

“I think there is some truth to your truth potion theory.”

“Yeah, right?” Hope adds. Without being quite aware of what she is doing, she is moving her hand through Penelope’s hair in a similar way she does with her cat. “My turn, huh?”

“Well, my sex starved friend, do you at least watch porn?” Penelope inquires.

“Yep, my… not sex starved… friend?” Looking at Josie, Hope asks, “Have you ever taken a nude. And if yes, did you send it?”

Blushing heavily, “Yes,” Josie answers.

“Wanna see?” Penelope teasingly asks Hope.

“Penelope!”

“Chill, you know I’d never do that,” the witch defends. “Kaleb, what is the last thing you googled?”

“Uh, gimme a sec.” He gets his phone out to check since he can’t remember. “Chicken Russia. Apparently it’s a crazy insult to call someone chicken in Russia.”

“Cool.” Not really what she expected, but she isn’t entirely sure what she expected.

“If you could kiss anyone in this room, who would it be?” Kaleb asks.

“Hope, just so that she isn’t a kiss virgin anymore,” Penelope answers without hesitation.

“Hey, I’m not a kiss virgin. I kissed Roman.”

“Ugh, this degenerate? What a waste of a first kiss.” Hope’s eyes turn sad again, thinking about Roman leads to thinking about her mom which leads to remembering that she is dead because of her mistakes.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” Hope assures her, banning Roman from her thoughts. “So you’d kiss me, hm?” she asks teasingly.

“Mh, maybe.”

“What would you do if I said dare?”

“You want me to kiss you, Mikaelson?”

A rush of jealousy hits Josie. What makes it worse is that she doesn’t know who is making her jealous, Hope or Penelope.

“Rafael was right,” Kaleb says, cutting the building sexual tension, “Bang it out. Anyway, so what is it, Hope? Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” She would swear that a wave of disappointment rushes over Penelope’s face. The witch is still lying in her arms, and Hope is still petting her. If Penelope started to purr, Hope wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between her and her little cat.

Surprisingly to Hope, she doesn’t mind the body contact at all. It’s probably the alcohol, she just isn’t thinking straight. Tomorrow she’ll regret this all.

Josie is about to speak when Kaleb’s phone rings. A minute and a disgusted face later, he leaves, explaining that M.G. is throwing up somewhere and that he’ll take care of him.

Suddenly Josie, Hope, and Penelope find themselves alone, the last remaining members of the once lively group.

“So… what about us?” Hope asks.

“Oh, we’re continuing,” Josie decides. Something in her eyes changed, a newfound confidence shining from them. “Let’s do a round of only dares, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Mhm.”

“Great,” she smiles, squinting her eyes and smirking at Penelope. Turning to Hope, she says, “Kiss me.”

In the moment that Hope is stunned by the dare, Josie confidently gets up and walks to Hope, sitting down on her lap, while Penelope is still in Hope’s arms.

Without waiting for a reaction, Josie leans down and presses her lips on Hope’s. It takes a second for Hope to adjust but she manages to do it without difficulty. Josie pulls away after a few seconds, smiling at Hope before turning the smile into a smirk when shifting her attention to Penelope.

In response, Penelope pushes herself up, grabs Hope’s face and kisses her. Hope is even more surprised and confused than before, not understanding the world anymore. What the fuck is happening?

When Penelope stares at Josie, Hope realizes what’s going in and her stomach turns in response.

“Get off me,” she says, her throat feeling tight. She pushes both girls off of her and gets up. “I’m really not in the mood to be in the middle of your break up drama.”

“No, you’re not. I was-“ Josie sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you say that a lot. You know what I’m sorry about? You destroyed the only painting I made with my dad. And I will never forgive you this,” Hope says, a tear flowing over her cheek. Turning around, Hope storms out.

“Look what we’ve done,” Penelope says as she storms past Josie, following Hope.

“Hope, wait,” Penelope shouts behind her.

“What?” She stops and turns around. Her eyes are teary.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she says earnestly.

“It wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t do it to make her jealous,” Hope replies, arms crossed.

“Trust me, I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

“Trust,” Hope scoffs. “You know, whatever this thing I had with Roman was, whatever of it was real, I’ll never be able to trust him again. Wanna know why?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, simply continuing. “Because the fundamental part of our - it wasn’t a relationship - of whatever it was, was a lie. He used me. He used me to get to my mom, to kill her!” she shouts the last part. “Everything that happened between us was built on a lie. No Penelope, I don’t trust you. I don’t trust anyone,” she says and sounds so defeated, so tired. “Josie lied, destroyed my relationship to Lizzie for years and as a result also destroyed her own relationship with me. Every friendship, every relationship, it all seems to be built on lies and I’m _so_ tired of being lied to.”

Turning around, Hope leaves without looking back. She should have listened to her gut feeling, joining this stupid game was a mistake, another regret she can add to the long list.

Penelope lets herself fall, leaning against a tree. Internally, she is berating herself for being so stupid and for letting this all get out of control. She should have known better, should have been smarter than this.

Josie is still at the Old Mill, regretting ever inviting Hope. But she knows the truth. Her lies would have come out eventually. It’s her fault, her mistakes that led to this.

“Stupid game,” she mutters and throws a cup across the room.

Arriving at her room, Hope is greeted by her cat. She changes clothes and buries herself under her blankets. When she starts crying, her cat lies down next to her, purring and comforting her.

“You always know when I need comfort, don’t you?”

Petting her absentmindedly, remembering how Penelope felt in her arms, how the kisses felt, she tries to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy pride month! Enjoy it during this crazy time. 
> 
> Working title: You have a cat.
> 
> 21k long chapter featuring touch starved Hope, stupid psychological assessments, way too many mentions of paint/ painting and eyes, too many talks about threesomes, a lot of talking in general, and no smut. I’ll never write smut.  
> Inspired to various degrees by ‘to flirt with sharp and heartless things’ by problematiclesbian, ANJA (yt channel; girl, who, among other, paints on her walls), NIN Hurt Cover by Otan Vargas, Linkin Park Crawling Cover by Aaron Lewis, Why a Butterfly Can’t Love A Spider by Frank Carter & The Rattlesnakes, Billie Eilish music, Nirvana, Gotye, The House of The Rising Sun Cover by Ashley Johnson, Ava Max songs – mainly Sweet But Psycho and So Am I, Grandson music (I listen to a lot of music), and a lot more.
> 
> Is there an 8000 words long conversation? Maybe. Could I have cut things? Certainly. Have I? Nope.
> 
> Can we get Hope actually painting in the show? No? Ight, just gonna write about it in every single fic then. 
> 
> Also, last thing, don’t take this too seriously. This goes for all my writing but especially for this fic. It’s just some stupid (way too long) fun. Like, seriously, it’s so stupid. I like fun. Fun is great. Fun is needed. Follow the fun. F is for friends who do stuff together, U is for you and me… Shout-out to all the Spongebob fans out there. 
> 
> Anyway. Black lives matter, fuck transphobic people, other things every sane person should understand that I don’t really wanna mention in a fucking fanfic. What a stupid world we live in.  
> Ugh, so much for fun.

What a failure, what a freaking failure, Josie thinks, as she walks back to the school. Not only did she leave Hope crying and running away, not only does she have to live with Hope and Penelope hating her, no, she also has to live with her sister hating her, too.

Tentatively, she pushes the door to their room open. She hears what she thinks is Lizzie crying, but, to her shock, it’s actually Lizzie moaning, not crying. Josie just walked in on her sister having sex – No way!

How did that happen?

“Oh! Oh, my God,” she exclaims and covers her eyes with her hands. “Bye.” She quickly gets out and desperately tries to forget the image of Rafael and Lizzie tangled together.

Well, she needs another place to sleep for the rest of the night. This leaves Josie with a real problem since she doesn’t know where to go.

M.G.? He is wasted, hopefully not throwing up anymore and probably asleep. She could sneak into his room, but there is still his roommate and she won’t join M.G. in his bed – that would be weird.

Penelope? She would definitely let her sleep in her room, but Josie isn’t keen on asking her ex for a place to sleep because Lizzie needs her privacy. Penelope would make an argument out of it and Josie is tired of arguing.

Hope? Not after tonight, no; she would never even let her in.

Landon? Rafael is not there so there should be an open bed for Josie, but are they good enough friends for her to just appear at his room? He might not even be there, maybe still out.

The same goes for Kaleb and Jed. If they are in their rooms, she might have to wake them up and most certainly have an uncomfortable conversation. She really just wants to sleep and forget all about this day.

Suddenly Josie knows where to go. She, without wasting a single second, makes her way to her mom’s room. The room is always empty since Caroline is never there.

On the way she sees Penelope. The witch apparently just came in, judging by her appearance. Their eyes meet briefly before Josie looks away, deciding to ignore her, but Penelope calls her name.

Josie looks at her from the corner of her eyes and waits for Penelope to talk.

“Don’t blame yourself,” she says.

“How can I not?” Josie replies, her resolve to remain silent already forgotten and the need to talk taking over. “I destroyed their relationship and I destroyed the painting and half her stuff.”

“You were twelve, Jojo. Twelve and stupid and nervous.”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

“No, it doesn’t. You can blame yourself for not telling them the truth earlier, but please don’t blame yourself for something that you did as a stupid kid. We aren’t meant to make smart decisions at this time of our lives.”

“You make it sound like I stole a cookie. I seriously messed with my sister’s mental health and I’m sure it wasn’t good for Hope either, their constant animosity.”

“Yeah,” Penelope whispers. “But blaming won’t make anything better. You have to make up for it.”

“I doubt Hope will ever talk to me again.”

Penelope nods silently. It’s possible that Hope won’t talk to either of them, it’s likely, even. The tribrid can definitely hold a grudge and she has every right to be mad. Knowing Hope, she will most likely ignore both of them, which means they have to get to her, not the other way around.

“Then try until she talks to you, really talks, not her usual sarcasm.” 

“Wouldn’t that only make it worse?” Josie wonders. “She will only hate me more if I don’t leave her alone.”

“What do you want, Josie? Either you do nothing and Hope will hate you or you make an effort and it might get better.”

Penelope’s probably right, Josie thinks, but for now she just wants to sleep.

“Thanks,” Josie says. “But I need sleep. See you… later.”

Penelope watches her leave, the conversation replaying in her mind, until she realizes that Josie is not going to her room. Running after her, Penelope asks her where she is going.

Josie explains the Lizzie situation which makes Penelope laugh.

“So I’ll sleep in my mom’s room,” Josie finishes.

“I’d offer you to sleep in my room but we both know that you will decline the offer. Goodnight.”

-

When Josie goes back to her and Lizzie’s room the next morning, she comes across Rafael.

Rubbing his neck, “Hey,” he says.

“Hi. Uhm, sorry about last night,” she says, trying her best to forget the image of him in Lizzie.

“Oh, it kinda just happened, you know?” he explains sheepishly.

She really doesn’t need to know about what happened. “How is Lizzie?”

“Good. I think. At least she was when I left.”

“Thanks for, you know, checking on her.” She can’t really look at him without seeing flashes of last night.

“Of course. Anytime.”

“Really?” Josie asks skeptically. Somehow she doubts that he will be there for her. Hopefully he won’t break her heart. 

“Yeah, why not?”

“Nevermind.” She shakes her head; Rafael’s plans for her sister aren’t important right now. They can wait. “See you around,” Josie says, leaving him behind.

She takes three deep breaths before she opens the door to their room. Lizzie is sitting in front of her mirror, putting on her makeup, not saying a word when Josie enters.

“Hi.”

She gets nothing in response.

“Please don’t ignore me,” Josie tells her. “You know we need to talk about this.”

“Josie, I had sex with Rafael!” she exclaims, walking to Josie and hugging her. “I should be thanking you.”

“What?”

“I’ve already forgiven you. Just explain to me why your crush on Hope was so important to stay secret.”

“Are you serious?” Josie asks. This sounds almost too easy.

“Yes.”

“Uh, I was afraid you’d go after her. And get her,” she mumbles.

“Ew. I’m your twin, shouldn’t you know me better?”

“You always go after people I like,” Josie counters quietly.

“Do you really believe that?”

“It’s true.”

“Did I go after Satan?”

“No, you just did everything to push her away.”

“She wasn’t good for you,” Lizzie says.

“I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Do you want to get back together?” the blonde twin asks skeptically.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling anymore,” Josie answers. Her feelings are one giant mess.

“I might have an idea,” Lizzie confesses. “What you said yesterday about Hope and Penelope-”

“Was stupid drunk talk and meant nothing.”

“-meant everything. There was a truth potion in the alcohol. What you said, it was the truth. You know how you feel.”

“You put a truth potion in the alcohol?” Josie asks, eyes turning huge in shock.

“Let’s focus on what’s important,” Lizzie tries to deflect.

“How could you do that?”

“Chill. I thought it would make things more fun, which it did,” Lizzie explains. “Until it didn’t,” she adds after a moment of consideration.

Josie looks at the ground, thinking back to everything she said and did.

“Oh, my God.”

“What.”

“I kissed Hope. Because of you.”

“You what?” Lizzie is in shock.

“When you were gone, I kissed her. And then Penelope kissed her too.”

“You bo- What? How did she react?” Lizzie asks; she can’t believe what she is hearing. They should have played this game way earlier. Lizzie’s life would have been easier.

“Hope?”

“Yes.”

“She ran away.”

“Were you that bad?”

Josie shoots her sister a glare. “Ugh, Lizzie, you’ve made everything so complicated.”

“I don’t see how,” the blonde siphoner replies. “Thanks to me, you should be clear on the feelings front. All three of you crushed on each other at one point. You just need to rekindle these feelings.”

“Wait. Who are you?”

Lizzie looks confused.

“My sister would never tell me to get back together with Penelope, let alone propose a polyamorous relationship with her _and_ Hope.”

“What can I say?” Lizzie smiles. “I’m in a really good mood.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Should I get Dad?”

“OK, you’re just being rude now.”

“There is no way you are actually suggesting this.”

Lizzie sighs dramatically. “Do I want you to get back together with Penelope? No. Am I okay with it if you think it will make you happy? Yes, of course. Just don’t forget all about me like the last time, okay?”

“I would never,” Josie says, almost outraged at the suggestion. “I never forgot about you and I never will.”

Looking happy, Lizzie says, “Do I think you’ll end up with both Penelope and Hope?” She laughs, then turns dead serious. “No way in hell.”

“What should I do now?” Josie asks. She has absolutely no idea what to do.

“Sorry, I’m no expert on polyamory.”

“Lizzie, please.”

She shrugs and says, “Talk to them? But make sure that this is really what you want.”

“How do I know if I want it?”

Lizzie sighs. “You’re hopeless. Hopefully not for long,” she says with a wink.

“Really?”

“You need more humor in your life, Jo. And more hope for the future.”

“Please stop.”

With a big grin on her face, Lizzie goes back to her mirror, finishing her makeup.

“Are you really not mad?”

“Oh I am mad, my happiness just outweighs my anger right now.”

“I’m really sorry, you know?” Josie says softly.

“I know you didn’t intentionally hurt me, but please don’t lie to me in the future.”

“Of course,” Josie says, smiling. “So how was sex with Rafael?”

-

Hope is up early, earlier than she usually gets up on a Sunday thanks to a disastrous night of dreams and a cat that decided to walk over her face because she was hungry. She has moved her bed and her closet, freeing her wall. Sheets are covering the floor and nearby furniture.

She is painting on her wall.

There are two small blue dots of paint on her face and her hands are covered in a mixture of colors. As cliché as she feels doing it, she is following a Bob Ross tutorial, or to be more precise, she has combined two of his painting, making them her own.

She has been painting for a couple of hours, missed breakfast because of it. It should be around time for lunch, she notes, but she doesn’t care.

Frustrated, she puts her paintbrush away when she hears a soft knock on her door. She has had more than enough contact with people this weekend and really needs a painting session to sort her feelings out.

“Hey,” Penelope says, her usual confident and slightly smug-looking smirk tilting the corner of her lips up.

In response, Hope raises her eyebrows, unimpressed and unwilling to even acknowledge the witch.

Since Penelope is as stubborn as a girl can get, she remains quiet too, leaning against Hope’s door frame and waiting for the tribrid to greet her. This continues for what feels like at least ten minutes, which is probably closer to two, but who cares about time perception? Penelope certainly doesn’t.

Finally, Hope sighs and says, “Hello.”

The grin that takes over Penelope’s face annoys Hope more than she’d like to admit. Not only makes it look Penelope more beautiful, but it also, more importantly, means that she won this round.

“I wanted to talk about yester-” Puzzled, Penelope looks between Hope and Hope’s bed that is in the middle of the room. More interestingly, and what really occupies Penelope’s gaze, is what she sees on Hope’s bed. “You have a cat,” she states.

“No, I don’t,” Hope replies, closing her eyes and hoping that Penelope drops it.

“You have a cat.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Hope, you have a cat!” With a bright smile on her face Penelope points to the bed. “I can see her. Him? Oh, my God, you have a cat.” She pushes Hope out of the way as she walks in, sitting down on the bed.

Trying to pet the fluffy little thing, the cat growls, making Penelope’s hand come to a halt. 

Hope watches her with a raised eyebrow. It took her weeks until the cat let her touch her, so it’s no surprise that Penelope experiences the same thing now.

“What’s her name?” Penelope asks. “Wait, are you painting on your wall?”

Hope stoically remains silent, still looking at Penelope with a raised eyebrow.

“Really? You’re just gonna ignore me?” Since Hope does not reply, Penelope, in spite, makes herself comfortable on the tribrid’s bed. “Well, let’s see who’s more stubborn.”

“I could just kick you out, you know?”

“And I already won. 2:0 for me. You’re bad at this.”

Taking a deep breath and shaking her head, Hope goes to her chair and sits down. The cat quickly jumps off the bed and up on Hope’s lap. Petting the fluffy monster absentmindedly, Hope says, “Bexie.”

Penelope looks at her, confused.

“Bexie, after my aunt. Her name. And yes, obviously I’m painting on my wall.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s a cute name,” Penelope says.

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk about yesterday.”

“About what specifically? There’s a lot.” Hope can already feel a headache coming.

“Did you say things you normally wouldn’t have?”

Thinking about it, yes, she definitely said things she’d never tell anyone. “Yes.”

The look on Penelope’s face tells her she already suspected the answer. “So did I. And so did Josie, obviously.” Hope’s eyes harden at the mention of the siphoner, but they relax again when she looks at her cat.

“What are you getting at?” Hope asks.

“We talked about Lizzie’s potential plan before the game.”

“And?”

“She put a truth potion in the alcohol,” Penelope says. “Think about it. It makes sense.”

Telling them about the anniversary of her mom’s death, telling them about long forgotten crushes, about her virginity… Yeah, the theory might be accurate.

“But why?”

“Since when does Lizzie need a reason for doing anything? For entertainment, for chaos, I don’t know.”

Hope rubs her eyes with on hand – the other is occupied by Bexie – and sighs. “Is that all?”

“What?” Penelope asks, taken aback. “Is that all? Why aren’t you mad?”

“At least I got to know the truth,” Hope says emotionlessly. “And I am mad. Mad at Lizzie, but also mad at you and Josie, so get out of my room.”

Crossing her arms, Penelope remains seated on the bed, looking defiatnly at Hope. “Not until we talked.”

“What else is there to talk about?”

“You had a crush on me.” She sounds so unbelievably smug.

Groaning, Hope almost moves but Bexie hisses, reminding the tribrid that she can’t move at all right now, not as long as the cat is lying on her lap. “Had, past tense.”

“When?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s over. Gone.”

“Our kiss felt different than that,” Penelope says.”More like, not over. Alive. Thriving.”

“Oh, you mean the kiss that happened because of your jealousy? And let’s not forget that you had a crush on me too. And what’s even the point of saying that?”

“Please, relax. OK? Just for once in your life. Is that so hard?”

“I’ll relax once you’re gone.”

“You want me to go so you can sulk in here again? Isn’t there enough angst in your life?”

Hope’s unimpressed face and the way her fingers gently brush over the cat don’t affect Penelope at all; she could sit here all day holding a staring contest with Hope, and she would win it. Also, Hope looks way too cute with the paint on her face and shirt.

At least the paint on her fingers is dry and doesn’t stick to Bexie’s fur.

“Have you read your psychological assessment?” Penelope asks, smiling at the way Hope’s eyebrows furrow.

“Have you?”

“Yours or mine?”

“Both.”

“Yes.”

“What does it say?” Hope asks, and Penelope smirks triumphantly.

“You expect me to give you answers when you don’t do the same?”

“What’s the bloody point?” Hope snaps, to Penelope’s satisfaction. To know that she has enough power over Hope to make her snap is somehow deeply satisfying. And Hope is just really hard to take seriously right now.

“Bloody, huh? You know, it’s hard to take you seriously with that paint on your face,” Penelope says. When Hope self-consciously touches her face, she adds, “Don’t worry, you look adorable.” To fluster Hope even more, she winks. 

The anger settles, leaving Hope with irritation and an urge to smile that she suppresses. “Why did you read my file?” she asks instead of getting into this game or whatever Penelope is trying to do.

“Are you kidding me? It’s literally the most interesting file there is. Except mine, of course.”

“Just tell me,” Hope says, so done with this conversation, “what I have to do to get rid of you.”

“But darling, you don’t want that,” Penelope tells her. “I just want you to be honest.”

“You’re talking about honesty?” Hope laughs and scoffs. “Really?”

“’Hope pushes her peers away with liberal use of sarcasm and an acerbic wit,’” Penelope quotes. “Your assessment is spot on.”

“You memorized it?” Hope sounds incredulous.

“Don’t flatter yourself, my memory is just that good.” She always manages to make you feel special, Hope thinks, but not feeling special would be nice for once.

“You know, I could just go to Dr. Saltzman and tell him what you did,” Hope threatens. Both girls know she’d never do that, so Hope is wondering why she even said it in the first place. Probably just for the slim chance that it might actually work. But of course, nothing ever fazes Penelope, who is pretty much always composed and unreadable.

“You call your replacement dad Dr. Saltzman?” the witch says. Her eyes dart over to the cat on Hope’s lap. She is purring so loudly that Penelope can hear her across the room. Before Hope answers, Penelope pulls Hope’s blanket over herself since she feels a little cold.

“Thin ice,” Hope warns her and watches as Penelope snuggles deeper under her blanket, head resting against the wall, comfortable-looking as ever.

Magic is rising in the air.

“You’re not gonna tell him,” Penelope continues as if Hope didn’t say a thing.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you are just like everyone else.”

“Meaning what exactly?” Hope asks.

“You love me.” Penelope just loves how Hope is simultaneously annoyed and flustered. Not many people can get emotions out of Hope. Only Lizzie, Josie, sometimes Alyssa, and, as she triumphantly realizes, Penelope can do that. But getting her flustered, the brunette considers this something only she can.

“You are delusional,” Hope says.

“Hey, you said it when you were under the influence of a truth potion.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Oh please. I have a place in your black heart? Coming from you, that’s basically a love confession.”

“You are crazy.”

“And you apparently love crazy,” Penelope responds, pushing her short hair back.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. I love you, Penelope. I’m sorry for never telling you,” Hope fake confesses dryly, her face void of emotions.

Penelope smiles and says, “Get back in line, there are many, many people in front of you.”

“Of course. I’ll wait for you. Can you go now?”

“Your bed is comfy,” the witch deflects, locking her arms behind her head.

“Penelope-“

“Daddy issues, they really wrote that in your assessment. Like, who made this? Daddy issues as a diagnosis,” she chuckles.

“Are you serious?” Hope asks, leaning forward. Bexie hisses and jumps off Hope because of it. “Sorry,” Hope whispers.

“Yeah.”

“What the hell? What kind of clinical diagnosis is this?” Hope wonders. Did Emma seriously write this? Daddy issues? Wow.

“They also call you a special unicorn.”

For a second Hope believed her, before realizing that it was just a joke.

“What’s in your assessment?” the tribrid asks.

“But darling, I don’t have issues.”

“I doubt that.”

“You think I went through some ‘disastrous past’?” She uses air quotes to indicate that this is another phrase from Hope’s assessment.

“I hope not.”

“No! No more angst,” the witch orders.

“Angst is my thing. Isn’t that in my file?”

“And now we’re back at sarcasm.”

“Yes, what a waste of time.”

“I’m never a waste of time,” the brunette points out; the mere idea of her being a waste of time seems to be unthinkable to her. “Penelope Park – a waste of time? In what universe are we living?”

“Have you read Josie’s?” Hope prods. The answer is obvious; she’s actually more interested in Penelope’s reaction.

“Yes. I need to know if my girlfriend is crazy, right?”

“Ex,” the tribrid counters, unimpressed. Her arms are crossed.

“Ouch,” Penelope replies mockingly.

“Uh-huh. Lizzie’s?”

“Nope.”

“Really? I thought you’d definitely read hers.” Actually, she thought that she’d read Lizzie’s first.

“I wanted to,” is all she answers. “Besides, it’s not hard to know what is going on in that little blonde head of hers. Your file was much more interesting in that regard.”

“So you don’t know what’s going on in my head?” Hope asks.

Penelope scoffs. “Angst, angst, and more angst. That’s in your head.”

“Wow, you really figured me out.” Hope isn’t sure how she feels anymore. Sure, she is still annoyed that she can’t get rid of her, but she is also entertained. As always, it’s fun to talk to Penelope. With each passing second Hope notices how she is slowly less mad at her.

Bexie jumps on the bed, walking on the blanket Penelope is under and eventually sits down on the girl’s lap. Watching as the cat kneads her legs, Hope smiles.

“You do know that you aren’t allowed to move now, right.”

“Don’t blame the cat. Just admit that you don’t want me to leave.”

“No, I’m serious. She will scratch your eyes out if you move,” Hope says plainly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She almost laughs when Penelope looks slightly panicked.

“Pet her,” Hope says, and Penelope obliges.

Bexie starts purring, making Penelope smile.

“That’s really impressive,” Hope notes. “It took weeks until she let me touch her.” She’s slightly pissed that Bexie immediately takes a liking to the witch.

“I’m just that good. Especially with touch starved people. And cats, I guess,” Penelope replies. “How did you get a cat anyway?”

“Found her.”

“You found a cat and decided to keep her?”

“Yeah. She was injured and looked scared so I took her with me and healed her. Now she won’t leave me.” Hope shrugs at Penelope’s amused face.

“I can’t even express how fitting this is,” Penelope laughs and explains because of Hope’s confused expression. “You like to fix things to make up for…” she stops, realizing where the sentence ends and that Hope would just get angsty again if she mentioned her family.

But it seems like her words were already enough, Hope already knowing what she was about to say, if her eyes are to be trusted. Her eyes always take the same sad tone when her family is mentioned. Penelope has seen it far too many times.

“I would have expected a redhead, though. Ginger cat for a ginger.”

“Funny.”

“But maybe black is also fitting. For your black heart and all. Black heart,” she chuckles, “how angsty.”

“What is it with you and this word?” Hope questions.

“It’s just unavoidable when it comes to you,” Penelope says, shrugging and looking back at the cat on her lap. Bexie’s eyes are barely open. From what the witch can tell, she looks content.

“You do remember that I just quoted you when I talked about my ‘black heart’?” Hope points out. Is Penelope deliberately trying to mess with her head or what’s the point of all this? Everything she does is deliberate, but why-

“Stop thinking so much. You’d have so much more fun if you let loose.

“That’s rich coming from you,” Hope says, now an amused edge to her otherwise neutral voice.

“Excuse me?”

“Everything you do is planned and thought out.”

“And?”

“You’re a hypocrite.”

“How so?” Penelope’s face looks honestly curious, to Hope’s confusion.

“I just told you,” she says, sounding irritated.

Penelope grins, letting Hope know she is messing with her. “I might plan ahead,” she says, “but I enjoy the moment and I have fun, unlike you.”

Hope doesn’t reply, just looking at Penelope, thinking.

“You’re not going, are you?” Hope asks after a long stretch of silence.

“Not a chance. I can’t wake the cat, can I?” she asks, her voice as if it was a scandal that Hope even suggested it.

Hope nods, having expected as much. Well, if that’s what she wants, Hope will just do what she would do if she were alone.

So she stands up and goes back to the wall, resuming her painting.

Penelope has to seriously stretch her neck to be able to see Hope, but the effort is definitely worth it, both for the painting – which already looks great in its early stage – and especially for Hope’s exposed legs.

“It’s a shame, you know?”

Hope ignores her, focusing her attention on mixing paint.

“You are way too hot to lock yourself in a room for all eternity.”

The pallet drops out of Hope’s hands and she curses. The sound of Penelope’s laughter makes it even more embarrassing.

“I actually can’t believe how it easy it is to get under your skin with just a little bit of flirting. Are you this attention starved?” Hope doesn’t have to see Penelope to know that she is smiling smugly, too happy that she can get such a reaction out of her. It’s frustrating to no end how easily Penelope can fluster her. No one else has this power.

Hope is too proud to lower herself to a reply, so she tries to work as elegantly as she can, which isn’t easy since she is in an oversized white shirt that is stuffed in her shorts and her hair is tied up messily. She doesn’t even wear socks; no one has seen so much exposed skin of her in ages.

In her opinion, she looks like shit right now but to be fair, she didn’t expect to be seen today.

As if she read her thoughts, Penelope, with the slightly slutty voice she sometimes likes to use, says, “I like your look. You look like a real artist.”

“OK, seriously, can you read minds?” Hope asks, turning around and looking at Penelope. Through her jerky movement, paint was sent flying from her paintbrush, hitting her and the sheets. 

She tries to clean her arm but forgets that her hand was already touched by fresh paint so she only makes it worse. Penelope is full on laughing by now, enjoying how flustered Hope is.

With the clean end of her palms, Hope rubs her eyes. She sighs.

“I just know you, Mikaelson,” Penelope says once she calmed down.

“Why are you calling me by my last name? No one else does it.” Hope blinks, realizing the answer. “That’s exactly why you’re doing it, isn’t it?”

“Who knows my motives?”

“So mysterious,” Hope whispers.

Penelope smiles and Hope turns away from the hazel eyes, back to the wall.

For quite some time Hope paints in silence while Penelope plays mattress for Bexie. She uses the time to take a look at Hope’s room. Just like herself, Hope has a single room, but it looks more comfy here, more like a home. Probably because the tribrid spends way more time in her room than Penelope does.

There are so many paintings on the walls and even some on the ground, and so many objects that reek of family heirloom that just lay around, almost forgotten.

The most notable, though, are all the pictures of the Mikaelsons. There are at least twenty different photos set up across the room. The worst thing about them is the difference they show between Hope then and now.

If you just look at the photos, you could be mistaken in thinking that Hope is a happy person. The Hope shown there is different than the one standing a few feet away from Penelope. 

This is apparent in one key feature: her eyes. Hope is good in hiding how she feels, but her eyes always show it. And that’s the difference between Hope on the photos and Hope in the now - their eyes. 

Penelope’s legs start to hurt. She kind of wishes Bexie would get off her so she could move her legs again, but you simply do not move when a cat is sleeping on you. And besides, Penelope can sit in the same position for hours, perfectly trained by her former house maid since her parents were busy doing other things.

“I once had a cat,” she says, smiling at the memory.

“Yeah?” Penelope is surprised that Hope even answered.

“Fluffy little thing. Her fur was almost as black as Bexie’s but she had this adorable white dot right on her head.”

“What was her name?”

The smile leaves Penelope’s face. As she remains quiet, Hope spares her a glance.

“What? Are you embarrassed?”

“Don’t you sound smug? Careful that you don’t get more paint on your face.”

“Aw, you are embarrassed. That’s a first for me.”

“I could give you an unforgettable first,” Penelope says and winks at Hope, who watches her humorously.

“You’re getting predictable,” Hope comments at her lame flirting attempt. “So what was her name?”

“Salem,” Penelope mutters.

“What.”

“Salem. Don’t judge me, I was six. OK?”

“Did little Penelope watch shows about witches?” Penelope has to stop herself from smiling because the smile on Hope’s face is so big and infectious.

“Making fun of others doesn’t look good on you.”

“Sorry, I’ll go back to my angst,” Hope says, turning and continuing to paint.

After some more minutes, feeling like hours with her increasingly sore legs, Penelope tries to nudge Bexie to stand up, but is just hissed at.

“Do your legs hurt?” Hope asks, sounding amused.

“No.”

“Yes,” Penelope admits after another minute when the urge to move overwhelms her.

Hope watches her for a moment, enjoying the torment on the witch’s face. Then, smiling, she walks over to them.

“Come here,” she says to the cat. Bexie walks over to the squatted down Hope and climbs on her shoulders.

Hope stands up, cat sitting on her shoulders, claws piercing in her skin. Penelope looks at her with a slightly open mouth and then a smile. Looking away before Hope can see that, she finally moves her legs.

Hope, expecting her to finally leave, goes back to the wall. She paints silently as Penelope stands behind her, watching her.

“Are you gonna leave or what?” Hope asks quietly. Penelope would swear that there is a sad edge to her voice.

“But I enjoy the view.”

Hope huffs a laugh and shakes her head. “Can you never be serious?”

“Can you never be fun?”

“You tell me. You’ve read my file.”

Sighing, “You’re way too depressed all the time,” Penelope says.

“Comes with the name.”

“Yeah, because Hope and depression fits so well together.”

“I meant Mikaelson.”

They look at each other. Hope’s eyes have the same shade as the blue dots on her cheek, Penelope notes. The tribrid's eyes just radiate so much sadness, so much pressure, as if she had to everything on her own to prevent the world from ending.

“What would your ideal day look like?” Penelope asks, never breaking eye contact. She knows this might go wrong, that Hope might get angry if she says something wrong.

“Why?” Hope asks, pulling her hair behind her ears. Penelope smiles when she sees paint on the hair. After that, Hope squats down, letting Bexie off.

“Just answer.”

“I’m not answering without knowing why.”

Pouting, Penelope tries to convince Hope by looking at her with her best puppy eyes.

“This might work on Josie,” Hope says, “but not on me.”

“Fine. What do you want in exchange?”

“You leaving me alone.”

“Mh-” she brings her hand to her chin, faking contemplating “-no. What else?”

“At least tell me why you’re even here.” Hope didn’t notice how close they were standing until she sees the disappointment flicker so clearly in Penelope’s eyes.

“I’m here because I’m sorry about yesterday. And I wanted to check on you, to see if you’re doing okay, which you obviously aren’t,” she explains and after seeing Hope’s face, she adds, “That’s why I never say things like this.” 

“How sappy.”

“Shut up. Your turn. Ideal day.”

“Uh, some painting, maybe seeing my family?”

“Seriously?” Penelope asks with a blank face. “Try harder if you lie to me.”

“I’m not ly-” Penelope’s pointed stare silences her. “Okay, you win. I honestly don’t know what my ideal day would look like. I’d be doing something with my family, I don’t even care what. I would paint. I-“ she sighs. “I’d be carefree. Just, ugh- I just want to stop worrying.”

“Wow-“

“Don’t you dare and say anything about angst now! You asked, I answered.”

“I wasn’t,” the witch says but her eyes tell a different story.

Something is different, Hope thinks. No one ever shows any interest in her beyond her looks or superficial knowledge about her family. She feels seen, vulnerable, in a way she can’t handle.

It doesn’t help that Penelope has the most gorgeous hazel eyes and that she won’t stop looking at her.

A small part of her wants to hug her and never let go. A big part wants to run.

She doesn’t do either.

It’s quiet, no one saying a word.

“You should go,” Hope tries again.

“Your mouth says one thing, your eyes another,” Penelope replies.

“I can’t see my eyes, can I?”

“If only you could.”

“What’s the plan, then? You’re moving in, huh?” Hope asks sarcastically.

“Say it and I will.”

Hope rolls her eyes.

“Don’t think I wouldn’t do it.”

“Oh no, I believe you.” She absolutely believes her. “But I like my single room.”

“Forever alone, huh?”

“Forever in love with Josie, huh?”

“Better pining than being lonely.”

“I’m not lonely,” Hope counters weakly.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”

“No one.”

“Why won’t you admit it?”

“I’m painting now! Do what you want,” Hope says. “Why am I even saying it? You will do that anyway,” she mutters to herself as she picks her paintbrush back up.

Instead of pushing her even further, Penelope sits down on the chair at the desk, watching Hope paint. It’s almost like Hope is a completely different person when she paints. Her movements are light, almost weightless, like all her worries are gone.

She likes seeing her like that.

Paint all over her clothes and some on her body, a mix of concentration and playfulness on her face, completely absorbed in what she is doing, Penelope could get used to this.

A beautiful girl with immense skill who does what she loves, Penelope could get so used to seeing this. She could watch this every day and not get tired of it.

Of course, it does help that Hope is really good at what she is dong. Like, really damn good. There has always been something special to her about watching people do what they’re good at; it’s just nice.

“Why is it so cold in here? I’m freezing,” Penelope complains.

“Then do something about it,” Hope says without turning around, leaving Penelope to her own devices.

Since Hope’s words leave room for interpretation, Penelope walks to Hope’s closet, combing through her clothes, eventually taking a jacket. 

Not wanting to interrupt Hope yet again but really thirsty, Penelope searches for something to drink, almost falling over Bexie who found herself a spot on the ground. She finds a bottle of water in a corner. Healthy, boring water. Yes, she doesn’t like to drink water, so, after checking if Hope is still distracted, she spells the bottle, changing the liquid to something tastier.

Grinning, she resumes her places and watches Hope some more.

It’s really interesting to her how effortlessly Hope moves and paints. Watching her, you could almost think that it is easy, that everyone could just do it.

She smiles.

“Can I help you?”

Waiting for an answer, Penelope sticks her tongue out at Bexie.

“Hellooooo?”

“Did you say something?” Hope asks.

“I know you heard me. Don’t play dumb.”

Hope turns around, looking at Penelope with honest yet unsure eyes. “Sorry, you could probably steal everything here and I wouldn’t notice. When I’m in the zone, everything outside the colors and the canvas or wall, in this case, disappears.”

“Like the flow state?”

“Exac-“ Hope turns quiet, eyebrows raised when she takes in what Penelope is wearing. “You could have just cast a spell, you know? Or turned on the heater.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like me in your things. I bet your wolf is getting real possessive,” Penelope replies, daring Hope to play with her. It’s a game she will always win and it’s too fun to see Hope like this.

“Uh, so what did you say when I wasn’t listening?” Hope asks.

Penelope nods to herself; of course she doesn’t give in. She has to give her credit, no one else resists her this much. It’s actually impressive. “Can I help you?” she repeats the question.

“With what?” Hope sounds as if she has no clue what Penelope wants from her.

“The painting. Duh.”

“You’re a painter now?” Hope chuckles, looking unsure.

“I’m a very quick learner,” she says, tone serious, too serious for Penelope, Hope thinks. “Come on, it’ll be fun,” Penelope adds when Hope doesn’t immediately reply.

“I won’t let you ruin my wall-” Penelope seems ready to argue so Hope adds, “but I could teach you?”

“The great Hope Mikaelson would do that?”

“Sure,” she says and rolls her eyes. “What do you wanna do, draw or paint?”

“Paint.” As Hope gets a canvas and paint, Penelope says, “I had art lesson when I was younger, you know? I was pretty good.” She tries to give a good Professor Lockhart impression that seemed to fly over the tribrid’s head.

“Yeah, makes sense.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. It’s perfectly fitting that you were good at it. I’d bet you play an instrument and have some writing skill too.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I just know you, Penelope.”

“Do you?”

“Your parents had private teachers and everything for you, right? Made sure you’re well educated in everything, especially in the arts?”

“Wow,” Penelope says, impressed, “maybe you do know me. Or have you read my file?” she asks with a smile.

“I don’t go around and read other people’s files or psychological assessments.”

“Don’t shame me. I had to know who I was dealing with.”

“Uh-huh,” Hope replies, pointing to the set-up canvas. “Less talking, more painting. Show me your skills.”

It’s been a couple of years since Penelope had a paintbrush in her hand. She was never too comfortable while painting; it was always something that she had to do rather than something she wanted to. But now, under Hope’s expectant and critical eyes, the pressure is on – more than ever.

And she wouldn’t be Penelope Park is she wasn’t good at everything she tries.

Hope remains quiet the entire time, waiting for her to finish. At one point she walks away and suddenly chuckles. “You transformed my water into a coke?”

“Who knows?”

Once Penelope is done, Hope examines the painting with a soft smile. It’s a simple enough landscape but it’s good, better than Hope expected.

“I hate to admit it,” she says, “but you do have talent.”

“Mikaelson, you always tell me what I already know.”

“So what now?”

“Do you trust me to help you? I mean, yeah, you don’t trust anyone, I know,” the witch says, rolling her eyes.

“Shut up and take the brush. Anyone who wears as much makeup as you probably can paint as well.”

“Excuse me?!”

Hope only smiles as she goes to the wall, listening to a Penelope rant. It’s nice. She isn’t exactly sure what exactly is nice, it just is – it feels good.

Penelope comes next to her, looking at Hope, who gives her a pallet. 

“Add two trees over here,” Hope tells her, marking the spots with a bit of green paint.

Penelope decides to be quiet and do as told. Carefully, she brings the brush to the wall, executing her first few strokes, constantly glancing over to Hope to see if she is doing something wrong. The last thing Penelope wants is the tribrid to get mad because she ruined her painting.

When Hope seems happy enough, Penelope gains confidence, working slightly faster and more independent.

They just work in silence for a while until Hope turns on music. Now the room is filled with the sound of Hope’s favorite Jazz.

It’s peaceful, Penelope thinks. She didn’t expect this when she went to Hope’s room some hours ago. In all honesty, she had no idea what she expected. The favors were definitely stacked against her. The more likely outcome was getting kicked out immediately, but somehow she is here, painting together with Hope.

And it’s fun, intimate, even. If Penelope had to guess, she’d say that there aren’t a lot of people Hope would paint with, let alone trust to not ruin everything.

The only downside to this is that she will most likely get her clothes dirty. She is willing to take this risk, though, if it means she can do this with Hope.

“Will you forgive Josie?”

“I don’t know – Is she planning on annoying me for so long until I can’t be mad anymore? Like, she could occupy my room, you know?”

“So you’ve forgiven me, hm?” Penelope asks, smiling and wiggling her eyebrows. 

“I can’t be mad at those gorgeous hazel eyes for long, can I?”

“Wow, where is the Hope from earlier today?”

“What? Can’t handle me flirting with you?” Hope inquires, her eyes never leaving the wall.

“You wish.”

“Mh,” Hope hums, not really too keen to talk.

Penelope picks up on it and stays quiet.

They continue for almost an hour with minimal talking, Penelope taking over her side when Hope doesn’t tell her what to do next. The only reaction she got was a raised eyebrow and a shrug.

When Hope leaves to use her bathroom, Penelope smirks, an idea forming in her head as she looks at the paint stains on her shirt. The brunette casts a silent spell on the wall and waits for the tribrid to return.

Once she is back, Penelope flicks her brush, hitting Hope full on with light green paint; the spell protecting the wall. For a moment Hope stares at her with a blank expression.

Sighing, “You wanted to start a war, didn’t you?” Hope asks. No, she won’t throw paint across her room.

“You, Mikaelson, are so incredibly boring.”

“Who is gonna clean up afterwards, huh? Not you,” Hope says.

“Lame excuse. You’re a witch, just use magic.”

“Do you want to be covered in acrylics?”

In response, Penelope flicks the brush again, covering Hope in even more paint.

“You are very dirty,” Penelope comments wryly, looking at all the paint that is all over Hope, from hair to feet.

“Screw that,” Hope says, summoning a tube of acrylic paint in her hand, opening and squeezing it. Penelope just manages to use her magic to block the oncoming paint.

“There you go,” she says.

“Don’t make me use oil paint,” Hope threatens. “It will ruin your clothes, even with magic.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to hit me, darling.”

Hope just shakes her head and starts painting again, only to notice the spell when nothing shows on the wall. Glaring at Penelope, she removes the spell.

“I’m tired,” Penelope whines. Hope is too but she’s not willing to admit it just yet.

“Then go.”

“I’ll get us something to eat.”

“No.”

“See you in five,” the witch says, walking to the door.

“Wait.” Hope rubs her lips with her right hand, covering them in blue paint. Before Penelope can react, Hope kisses her cheek, leaving a fat blue lip print.

“I’m possessive, you know?” Hope says, and winks. To make it even better, she casts a spell that prevents Penelope from removing the paint for the next hour.

Nodding with thin lips, “Good move, Mikaelson, good move,” she says, her voice swinging from pissed to proud.

-

On her way to get dinner, Penelope glares at everyone who looks at her. She did not expect Hope’s attempt at embarrassing her. And she did a good job; Penelope is proud of her. It’s not as good as leaving her with a big and noticeable hickey, but it’s the next best thing.

Thinking about it, Hope is definitely the kind of girl to leave hickeys. They both might have joked about her possessiveness, but there is always some truth in jokes. And in this case there is a lot of truth.

Without any distractions, she gets two trays, filling them with food, and magically carrying them behind her back.

The one time she absolutely does not want to see Josie, she runs into her. It’s kind of funny that she runs into her ex when she thinks about Hope leaving hickeys on her body, especially after what Josie said about having her and Hope at the same time.

“Hey,” she says to the siphoner.

Josie eyes her skeptically, asking, “Who left her mark on you?”

“No one,” the witch tries to dismiss.

“Sure, you kissed yourself.”

“Jealousy suits you, makes you hot.”

“Whatever,” Josie says, about to walk away.

“I was talking to Hope,” Penelope says, stopping her. “You should do too.”

“What did she say? Wait, did she?” she asks, pointing at Penelope’s cheek.

“At first she said a whole lot of nothing, but, as you know, I have a way with people.” Her smile answers Josie’s question whether it was Hope who left the kiss on her cheek. “I’m actually going back to her right now,” she explains, pointing to the two trays.

“Why are you full of paint?” Josie asks after finally taking in the witch’s appearance. “Were you and Hope painting? And why are you wearing Hope’s jacket?” Her voice is full of jealousy. “Now you’re all close or what? You hurt her as well.”

“You should talk to her,” Penelope replies calmly. “Not now, but tomorrow or whenever.”

“Why not now? Afraid that I’ll ruin your time together?”

“Your jealousy is getting out of hand. Relax. Okay?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, walking back to Hope.

-

Hope has changed into a clean and more presentable outfit, and is all cleaned up when Penelope returns with two full trays. The brunette notices immediately, commenting, “Dressing up for me?”

Hope shoots her a glare, turning into a sweet smile. “Of course. Everything for you, love.”

“Thanks, darling.” She carelessly throws some stuff off Hope’s desk and puts the trays down. Hope sits down next to her since the desk is standing in front of a wall; both girls have to share the small space.

“Why doesn’t a rich girl like you have a bigger desk?”

“Yeah, because I obviously need it for all my guests.”

“If only you weren’t so full of angst, you’d have plenty of _guests_.” Her voice suggests things Hope doesn’t want to think about, but too late, her mind has already come up with scenarios of some Landons or Rafaels doing things she never wants to do with them.

“Say this word one more time and I’ll cut your tongue out.”

“What, angst?”

Hope glares at her and moves a finger to Penelope’s jaw.

“But it describes you perfectly,” Penelope whines. “There is no word that is more fitting.” She pushes Hope’s finger away. “My angsty, angsty Mikaelson.”

“So you think I’m like, melodramatically wishing for pity while trying to be misunderstood?”

“Someone’s read the urban dictionary entry on angst,” Penelope comments. “Which just proves my point, by the way. I was more thinking that you combine the anguish of life with the hope of overcoming it, but what you said fits too.” She shrugs.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who read that entry.”

“Constantly struggling with the burden of life and not knowing when salvation will appear… Didn’t I tell you that my memory is perfect?”

“You mentioned it.”

They finish eating. Penelope stretches and drops onto Hope’s bed. “You’re gonna join me, Mikaelson?”

Hope, wanting to turn the game around, to fluster Penelope for once, decides to play along, going to the bed and sitting down next to her.

Penelope seems pleasantly surprised, if her expression is anything to go by. However, Hope has learned that her face isn’t always telling the truth. No, nothing Penelope does can ever be taken as one hundred percent genuine, and somehow that’s exciting.

She is dangerous while actually she’s actually not. There is no mortal danger coming from her, no risk that she would kill her, although she is definitely powerful enough to kill anyone she wants. The danger that is coming from Penelope is an emotional one. And by that, she is far more lethal than anyone Hope has ever met.

Fortunately for the witch, Hope likes to play with fire.

Penelope is staring deep into her eyes as Hope says, “What will Josie say when she finds out?”

“Finds out what?” she whispers.

“What you want us to do.”

“And what would that be?”

They are both leaning closer, not much separating them. There’s a spark of magic in the air as they look in each other’s eyes.

“You tell me. What have you planned?” Hope asks seductively.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing you can give.”

“Try me.” Penelope moves impossibly closer, testing the limit to this situation. To her surprise, Hope doesn’t back away; she stays right in place, unwilling to be the first who backs out.

“You didn’t answer the question.” They are basically breathing the same air now. Hope leans back slightly, to see Penelope’s eyes properly, to see how dilated her pupils are. “Like what you’re seeing?”

“You have to ask that?”

“What about Josie?”

“What, are you worried about what she’ll think?”

“I’m worried about your chances with her.”

“Aw, you melt my heart.”

There’s another moment of switching between eye contact and glancing at lips, another moment of unbearable tension for both girls, even if they try their best to hide it.

“Are you gonna kiss me or what?” Penelope asks with a low voice. “Because this staring is getting boring.”

“Your heartbeat is telling a different story.”

The witch smiles. It’s true. Her heart is beating faster than she’d like to admit. Unfair supernatural hearing.

“Then decide already if you have all the information.”

Grinning, Hope leans back, separating them and relishing in the way Penelope’s head longingly follows her for a second.

“Josie,” Penelope says with a husky voice, “would probably hop into bed with us.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Hope chuckles, “She did say that.”

“Maybe you should thank Lizzie,” Penelope suggests.

“Why?”

“You could have a threesome with the two most gorgeous girls in the school.”

Hope bursts out laughing.

“Seriously though, today wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for Lizzie. And don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it, ‘cause I know you did.”

Since there is no point in denying it, Hope shrugs, agreeing with her. “I’ve had worse days. Wait a second, a threesome with the two most gorgeous girls?”

“I hope you’re not trying to convince me that someone else is more beautiful. You won’t win this argument.”

“That means you’d be willing for it as well, not just Josie.” Her grin is impossibly wide. The part of Hope that is longing for human connections is deeply satisfied by the knowledge that the two only people she ever had any feelings for would be up for it if she decided to.

“Shame you’re never gonna allow that,” Penelope sighs, having regained her composure.

“Shame for whom?”

“Everyone involved. Can you imagine what a power trio we’d be?” She looks away from Hope, as if she was thinking about a parallel universe in which something like this could happen.

“Stop dreaming. Maybe you should try to get back with Josie before you fantasize about your fetishes.”

“Fetishes? I hate to break it to you, Mikaelson, but thoughts about relationships aren’t a fetish.”

“Your thoughts about Josie are definitely not normal,” Hope says. She is obviously not an expert, but all this pining can’t be normal.

“Only someone who hasn’t experienced true love could say such a horrible, horrible thing,” Penelope replies dramatically, pushing Hope’s shoulder back.

Hope adjusts her position, resting her head on her pillows. She yawns. “I slept like shit.”

Penelope has already taken notice of Hope’s tired eyes, of the bags under them, earlier today, but you simply do not tell a woman that she looks tired.

“Should I go and let you sleep?”

Laughing, “All I had to do to get rid of you was saying that I’m tired?” Hope asks.

“I’m happy now.”

“But you never achieved your goal. We never talked like you wanted to.”

“Are you saying you want to talk about your crush on me?” By now, Penelope has shifted her position, looking at Hope while still sitting on the bed,

“Or about your crush on me,” Hope counters. “I have a spot in your black heart? Coming from you, that’s basically a love confession.”

“You do like to use my words against me.”

“Maybe you should be more careful with your words,” Hope says lowly, carefully.

“I’d say I’m doing just fine,” Penelope answers, silence filling the room.

“Penelope?”

“Mh?”

“Why are you holding my hand?”

“Why not?”

“It’s weird.”

“You are touch starved. I’m just feeding you.”

“Okay,” Hope says quietly. She’d never admit it out loud, but even her not drunk brain likes body contact with Penelope.

“Really?” Penelope chuckles. “That was easy.”

“Well, I’m just letting you do what you want since you so apparently love holding my hand.”

“You love having someone to hold hands with.”

“Maybe we both love holding hands,” Hope suggests.

“Maybe.”

Both secretly smile while looking away, not willing to show that to each other.

“My throat is sore,” Hope says as she drinks water. “Too much talking.”

Penelope looks at her with a raised eyebrow. “You never fail to amaze me with the depths of your aloneness.”

“Hey, I’m just not used to talking this much.”

“Noted.”

“Noted? That sounds like you plan to change that.”

“Oh darling, this was just the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”

“Just to be clear, why are you calling me darling?” Hope asks. The question had been on her mind since the first time Penelope called her that.

“It just sounds fitting when it comes to you, don’t you agree? And babe doesn’t feel right with you. It’s not classy enough. And you’re too ancient.”

“I’m seventeen.”

“But your soul, Mikaelson, is ancient.”

Hope shrugs. “Do I need to come up with names for you too?”

“You already did.”

“Right. My love.”

“Yes, darling?”

“You are so annoying.”

“Better annoying than boring.”

“I guess,” Hope says.

“I mean, look at Landon. Just boring.”

“Okay, yes,” Hope chuckles, “you’re right.”

Bexie jumps on the bed, walking over their intertwined hands and settling down between the two girls. Petting her, Penelope lets her eyes take in Hope for one more time. There is something so vulnerable in the way she just lays there. She looks exhausted and there is never a time when she doesn’t look sad. It’s always there, the sadness, sometimes buried behind masks and other emotions, but always sticking out to Penelope.

Maybe other people don’t see it, but she does. Maybe it takes sad eyes to recognize them in others. 

The whole day has been a vote of confidence, Penelope realizes, a second chance that she won’t waste.

Hope has let her into her world, even if Penelope had to insert herself first. Once there though, Hope accepted and welcomed her with her actions, even if her mouth said something different.

“Stop thinking so much,” Hope says, again using Penelope’s words against her.

“You gotta stop that.”

“Stop what, love?”

“You know what, Mikealson.”

“Is Mikaelson an up- or downgrade from darling?”

“Depends on the context.”

“Mhm. We have classes tomorrow. You should go and get some sleep.”

“Yeah, probably.”

For one last time this day, they look at each other, neither moving. Eventually Penelope pulls her hand away, slowly, observing how Hope’s flingers slip through her own and how wrong the separation feels.

“Goodnight, darling.”

“Goodnight, love.”

With that, Penelope closes the door behind her, leaving Hope alone after she asked to her many hours ago.

She took Hope’s jacket with her, the tribrid notes.

In her bed, next to her kitty, Hope misses the warmth that immediately left once Penelope was gone. What worries her more is how the witch managed to completely turn around her feelings in a couple of hours.

She planned to avoid Penelope and Josie for the foreseeable future and not spend even more time with them after they played with her feelings.

And most worryingly of all, Hope cares about them. Why can’t Penelope stay away like she used to? Doesn’t she realize how dangerous this is?

It’s not like Hope wants to isolate herself. She does it as much for her own emotional safety as she does it for everyone else’s physical safety.

Which leaves her only with one option, she realizes with a heavy heart.

-

The next week goes as Penelope predicted, but not as she had hoped. Hope is avoiding both her and Josie, always leaving before either of them can say anything to her. Penelope has to watch as Hope shuts her and Josie out again.

She can’t say she is surprised. She just wishes it would be different. It’s really frustrating to see how Hope is self sabotaging. There is no secret that it is hurting her; it’s so clearly visible

Especially hard for her is seeing how Hope shuts out Josie at every opportunity. She had hoped that after their day together, Hope would be more prone to forgive Josie as well, but it seems like she miscalculated.

Every time Josie tries to talk to Hope in the few times they have classes together, Hope has an excuse ready, some reason why she can’t talk right now. And that’s not all bad all things considered. At least she isn’t openly hostile.

It’s Friday evening. Josie is in Penelope’s room; together they have emptied half a bottle of vodka. At least one good thing happened this week, Penelope thinks. Josie is talking to her again, even spending time with her. She isn’t exactly sure why or how that happened, but she won’t complain, she definitely won’t complain.

“Tomorrow, Jojo, you’ll go to her room and you won’t leave until you’ve talked, all right? Talk it out, hug it out, make out, bang it out, I don’t care, just get it over with. Well, if you do make out, please tell me because that’d be hot,” she says, adding a flirty smirk at the end.

“I’ll do my best,” Josie says, sounding anything but confident.

“I’m optimistic. You just have to withstand her initial adversity and it’ll all go well.”

“How are you so sure?”

“She cares about us,” Penelope says matter-of-factly.

“Does she?” Josie asks bitterly.

“She wouldn’t avoid us if that wasn’t the case,” the witch points out. “You know she has these delusions that everyone she cares about is in danger of imminent death.”

“I knew that?” Josie asks, absolutely not knowing that.

“Maybe I’ve read it in her psychological assessment,” Penelope shrugs.

“You what? She will hate you if she finds out.”

“She already knows,” Penelope says, shaking as she swallows the Vodka from her glass. “Gross. Yeah, I told her.

“What did she say?”

“She wanted to know what it says.” Penelope chuckles when she remembers “Daddy issues. Apparently that’s a clinical diagnosis,” she says.

“Trust issues, terrified of commitment, sabotaging your relationships, she does check some of the boxes for daddy issues,” Josie replies seriously, and when Penelope looks at her with an amused smile, she adds, “What? I had a lot of time to read during Lizzie’s therapy sessions.”

Penelope still doesn’t say anything so Josie just goes on. “I don’t know if it’s an actual diagnosis, I doubt it, but Freud coined the term Father Complex.”

Instead of finally saying something, Penelope fills her glass and drinks more alcohol.

“How often did you think about Hope while reading about things like this?” she asks, amusement shining in her eyes.

Josie blushes, mumbling, “Sometimes.”

“You are the cutest,” Penelope laughs.

They continue drinking for some time. It’s almost like back when they were together, only they aren’t. It’s not quite the same, past conversations and actions lingering in the back of their minds. Nothing will ever bring them back to the first few weeks together; the incredible feeling will never be replicated.

Penelope has often thought about this. Even if they get back together, it won’t be the same. Past issues will continue to haunt them and old wounds will be reopened. And sure, they might overcome this, but Penelope isn’t sure if she’s willing to take this risk. Her heart was broken once and she’ll do everything in her power to prevent a second time.

“Penelope?”

“Jojo?”

“Do you want to get back together?” Josie asks, looking uncertainly at Penelope. There is a risk that Penelope turns her down, and Josie isn’t sure if she’s ready for rejection. Scratch that, she’s absolutely sure that she’s not ready for rejection.

Her heartbeat is getting faster as she waits for an answer, anxiety and insecurity pulling at her feelings.

“What about Lizzie?”

“She told me she’d be okay with it if it makes me happy,” Josie explains, even more afraid now because Penelope is avoiding the question.

Penelope remains silent, not even looking at the siphoner.

“Penelope, what is it?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for another try,” the witch admits.

“Is it because of Hope?” Josie asks, again sounding unbelievably jealous. “Do you love her?”

“What?” Penelope never realized just how jealous Josie can become, never before has she experienced it to such a level. And it always comes to the surface when Hope is brought up.

“All you wanted was to get me back together and now when I’m ready, you chicken out. Why? Just tell me if you’ve moved on.”

“Josie, I love you. Trust me, I do,” she takes Josie’s hands, squeezing them, “but I don’t want another broken heart.” She hopes her words convey just how much she means it.

“You ended things with me, not the other way around,” Josie points out, bitterness in her voice. She pulls her hands away.

“I know. I did it for you and I don’t know if you are ready for a second try.”

“Now it’s my fault?”

“No! No. It’s no one’s fault. Just talk things through with Hope and then we’ll see. Let’s take it slow, okay?”

Josie nods, not really agreeing but she understands. “I have to tell you something,” she says, changing the topic. Hopefully Penelope won’t get mad.

“Hm?”

“During truth or dare, there was a truth potion in the alcohol.”

“I suspected as much,” Penelope says, downplaying the excitement she feels that her theory was proven correct.

So much for anger, Josie thinks. “Does that mean you really had a crush on Hope?” she decides to ask since Penelope doesn’t seem to be mad.

“The more interesting topic, Jojo, is your fantasy about me and Hope at the same time,” Penelope says in a low and seductive tone, trying her hardest to get as much of a reaction out of Josie as possible.

Penelope can always rely on her voice. It always proves to be a successful way to make people uncomfortable. Josie is no different, now sitting in front of her with a red face, blushing hard.

“Lizzie even suggested that we should enter a polyamorous relationship with Hope,” Josie replies.

Penelope laughs, saying, “There’s no way that Lizzie said this. You with the two people she hates most?”

“I know, I had the same reaction, but I’m serious. She actually said that.”

“Wow. Sometimes she does have good ideas.”

Josie huffs a laugh and says, “Yeah, right. Imagine us three. What a-“

“Power trio.”

“-ridiculous idea.” Josie looks at Penelope as if she had another head. “Are you seriously considering this?” Josie inquires.

“You are the one who gave birth to the idea.”

“I was drunk.”

“And honest.”

“Alright, new mission. Convince Hope for that threesome,” Josie laughs, but stops when Penelope looks at her with a dead serious expression.

“Let’s drink to that,” she says, raising her glass. “Josette Saltzman, mark my words, I will not stop until we three are together.”

“Well,” Josie says, bringing her glass to Penelope’s, “good that such a thing as immortality exists. You’ll need it.”

Smiling, both drink.

Penelope might have expressed concerns about rekindling their relationship, but she had no problem with making out with Josie, no problem whatsoever.

Maybe things won’t be as the used to be; maybe they’ll be even better. Penelope smiles into the kiss as she imagines Hope being there too.

-

Josie does as told, walking to Hope’s room. A horrible-tasting potion made sure that her hangover is gone, so she is feeling good. Maybe good is an overstatement; she’s rather anxious, not sure how this will go.

Anxious, she’s used to feeling like this when it comes to Hope. Years of hidden feelings and secrets that have been finally revealed always had her on edge when the tribrid was around.

Even if this conversation proves to be a disaster, at least she will still have Penelope. The witch might have been reluctant to rekindle their relationship, but their kisses were just as passionate as they used to be, maybe even more.

Hope opens the door, wearing an, to Josie, adorable mix of their school skirt and a white t-shirt, which is paint-covered, and her hair is tied up messily.

Hope has to restrain herself from laughing when she sees Josie. Is it going to be a thing that someone comes to her once a week when she is painting? She didn’t find the time during the week to finish her wall so she wants to do that today.

At least she put a little more effort in her appearance, having suspected that she might be visited. Well, she is full of different colors, as always when she paints. There’s something about wearing white to her. Some people might call her ballsy for doing that, but she loves wearing white while painting.

Luckily she can always clean her clothes with magic, otherwise she would have ruined countless shirts and pants.

Before either even says anything, Bexie painfully climbs up on Hope’s back, stopping once she’s on her shoulder. “Ow!” Hope says, scolding the still very young cat, who, in turn, looks proudly at Josie.

“You have a cat,” she states, audibly excited.

“No, I- Yes, I have a cat,” Hope admits in a defeated tone since there is no point in denying it.

It’s understandable that both Penelope and Josie were surprised by this as animals are not allowed at the school. What she doesn’t understand is why they are so happy about it. First Penelope and now Josie, smiling like a fool because she has a cat.

“What’s her name?”

“Bexie. After-“

“Your aunt?” Josie asks, even more excited than before.

“How do you know?” Hope sounds surprised.

“I’ve heard you call your aunt ‘Auntie Bex’.”

“Really? When?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Like, two years ago?” Josie guesses, rubbing her neck. “You were outside, facetiming and I overheard it.”

“Josie, did you spy on me?” Hope asks teasingly.

“No,” Josie says, blushing.

“Uh-huh.”

“I swear I wasn’t.”

“Relax. I believe you. Anyhow, what do you want?”

“Can I come in?”

Sighing, Hope moves to the side, letting Josie walk past her.

“You’re painting on your wall?”

“Obviously.”

“Right.”

Since Josie is standing in the middle of the room, looking lost and uncomfortable, Hope gestures to a chair, offering her to sit. Now seated, Josie is still shifting nervously.

“So?”

“Two things, then I won’t bother you anymore.”

Hope raises an eyebrow, waiting for her to go on.

“For one, I’d like to ask for your forgiveness. I’m really sorry, both for destroying your stuff and for lying. I understand if you won’t forgive me, but I just wanted to tell you,” she says, smiling tentatively, receiving nothing in response.

“And the second?”

“Uhm, I think you deserve to know that there was a truth potion in the alcohol when we played truth or dare. I didn’t know that when I asked you to join. I wouldn’t have if I knew.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s it?”

“I-” she kind of doesn’t want to say it, she really doesn’t. Josie irreversibly destroyed something that meant the world to her but- “I forgive you.”

“Really?” Josie sounds surprised, like she doesn’t believe it.

“Yeah,” Hope sighs. “I’m trying not to hold grudges. Don’t be vengeful, you know? ‘Be better.’” She imitates a voice that Josie doesn’t recognize.

“That’s a lot to ask of you.”

“You have no idea,” she agrees absentmindedly. “But, Josie, promise me something,” Hope says, both her and the cat looking at the siphoner.

“Yes?”

“If you ever have a crush on me or anyone again, just tell me or that person. Or at least don’t use a fire spell.”

Laughing, “Yeah, I can do that,” Josie answers. “I promise.”

“Good. Anything else you wanna talk about?”

“Why did you even let me in? I was fully prepared for you to slam the door in my face.”

“Again, don’t be vengeful. And I thought that a little bit of cooperation would work better after what happened with Penelope.”

“What do you mean?” Now more relaxed, Josie can appreciate the sight of a cat sitting on Hope’s shoulder and the paint on her hands and shirt.

“Didn’t she tell you? I thought you are back together,” Hope says offhandedly.

“No, she didn’t.” Josie ignores the latter sentence.

“She stormed in, sat on my bed, and didn’t leave for hours, no matter what I did.” Hope tries to sound annoyed but the tentative smile on her face betrays her true feelings.

“You didn’t try hard then, did you? I mean, if you really wanted her gone, it would have been no problem for you,” the siphon argues.

She does have a point, Hope has to admit. “Not every problem has to be solved with magic or violence.”

“But you didn’t solve it at all. You let her stay. The question is why? Hope, did you want her to stay?” Josie asks sweetly, a smile on her face.

“What was that about two things and then you’d be gone?” Hope asks, irritated and desperate to change the topic.

Josie can’t decide who is cuter, the cat or Hope. Standing up, she walks to Hope, slowly lifting her hand to the cat. Hope eyes her critically, not saying anything. Bexie leans into the touch once her hand arrives at her head.

Hope nods. “Of course you like them both more than me,” she says to the cat. In response, Bexie lovingly bites into her neck. “Should I send you with Josie, huh?”

The girl in question takes a step back. Somehow she feels like this isn’t the first time Hope has had a discussion with her cat.

“Oh yeah, now you’re all loving? You let them both pet you after mere minutes while I had to earn your trust for weeks.” Bexie meows loudly. “You know where the door is!”

Hope’s attention snaps back to Josie when she starts giggling.

“What?”

“How often do you talk to her?” Josie asks, trying to stay composed.

Hope brings her hand up to Bexie, petting her behind her ear. “Way too often,” she admits, releasing a deep breath.

“So that’s your thing, talking to cats instead of people?”

“Cats might be assholes, but at least they are honest,” Hope replies, shooting Josie a look that makes her feel guilty. However, it’s hard to take Hope seriously when she looks this adorable.

“By the way,” Josie says, “did you and Penelope paint together?”

Pointing to the wall, Hope says, “She painted parts of the right side. The trees, mainly.”

“You let someone paint with you?”

“You sound like that is unimaginable,” Hope answers, kind of affronted but not really. Josie’s surprise is understandable and justified, but it still annoys her for some reason.

“Well, yeah,” Josie says. It is not something she thought she’d ever hear about.

“Am I such a loner that you can’t imagine me spending time with anyone?”

Josie shrugs. “Kind of, yeah.”

One part of Hope wants Josie gone, another wants to prove her wrong, that she could be social if she wanted to.

Why is she always internally fighting with herself? Everything would be a lot easier if her feelings weren’t so bloody contradicting

But in the end, it’s an easy decision, logically at least; emotionally it’s definitely not easy. It’s safety versus fun, other people’s lives versus her loneliness, and she knows what she will pick. She will always make the same choice.

“Well,” she begins, her tone suddenly serious and heavy, “the loner wants to be alone so-” she gestures to the door “-please go.” She looks at Josie with that expressionless face of hers.

“Answer me one question,” Josie replies, thinking back to what Penelope said about Hope’s ‘delusions’. “And please be honest.”

Hope gestures for her to go on, both her and Bexie waiting expectantly.

“Do you really want me to go or are you pushing me away to protect me or something?”

The question catches Hope off guard; her face alone is answer enough for Josie.

“I-“

“You’re not a danger to us and you don’t need to self isolate, Hope.”

“If only that were true,” Hope says quietly, walking to her bed and letting Bexie down.

“But it is simple, isn’t it?”

“Drop it, Josie,” Hope says. “Just drop it.” Hope isn’t willing to argue about this. Her powers are devastating and she doesn’t even want to imagine what would happen if she lost control. Her parents died because of her mistakes. No matter what Josie says, there is nothing that could convince Hope.

Not only is she a danger to everyone she cares about but also for everyone else, and she is ready to live with that, even if it means that she will be alone. As long as everyone is safe, she can suffer; she can take it.

“You probably _should_ talk about this.”

“I’m not talking about your codependency issues either.”

“I’m still happy despite my issues. You can’t say the same, can you?” Josie says and immediately regrets it. It came out wrong, not like she intended it to sound, way too aggressive and like she knows better.

“So now you know how I feel?” Hope asks, offended.

“No,” dang it, “sorry. I just think you should talk about this. You deserve to be happy and it’s hard to watch you self sabotage.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep your recommendations in mind,” Hope spits.

“Don’t be like this,” Josie says softly.

“Like what?” She tries to appear threatening.

“Like this, pushing me away, poking. Stop. You act like I want to harm you. We care about you, Penelope and I. Don’t shut us out.”

“What if I don’t want your care?”

“You don’t mean that,” Josie replies confidently. She can see it in Hope’s eyes.

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Really.” Josie holds her ground, not backing off.

“Because no one could resist Penelope’s flirting or your gentle soul? You make quite the arrogant couple,” Hope mocks.

“What are you trying to accomplish?” Josie asks calmly. “You won’t get rid of me by saying rude things you don’t mean.”

Hope holds her gaze for another moment, her resolve dwindling the more she looks into these brown eyes. Josie doesn’t have to speak, her eyes do all the talking and convincing.

“I’m not going and neither is Penelope,” Josie says quietly, almost a whisper. She takes one of Hope’s hands, not minding the paint. “We both know about long gone crushes and we’ve known each other for years. Hope, let’s just be friends. Okay?”

Friends? Hope doesn’t think she can be just friends with either Josie or Penelope. It’s either all or nothing when it comes to them.

Gently shaking her head, “I don’t think I can,” Hope says. She raises her free hand to stop Josie from arguing. “You’re right. I-” she’s gonna regret saying this “-Forget it.”

“No. Please tell me,” Josie tries to convince her and her eyes are very hard to resist. “Why can’t we be friends?”

“Because I can’t be _friends_ with you,” Hope says, hoping that Josie would pick up on what she’s trying to say.

“Oh.” Her hand slips away. “You mean- oh.” Too many things to comprehend at the same time shoot through her head.

“Josie?” Hope guides her to the bed, helping her sit down when the siphoner doesn’t respond. “Are you okay?”

“Did you- did you just say what I think you said?”

“I can’t read minds but probably yes.” Technically, with the help of magic, she can read minds, but that’s beside the point.

“I’m dreaming. I have to be,” Josie whispers. “There’s no other explanation. Or we’re all high,” she theorizes because there’s no other way. How did her life go from heartbroken and no girlfriend to possibly two girlfriends?

Hope hands her a glass of water, not sure what’s going on. Josie mindlessly takes it and drinks.

“Jo, are you okay?” Hope tries again.

“I think so.”

“Good.”

Josie stands up, hugging Hope, who freezes in response.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Hugging you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve forgiven me,” Josie says and adds, “And because Penelope mentioned how touch starved you are.”

Hope remains silent.

Maybe that’s the key to get trough Hope’s heart, just touching her. It seems to break her every time, like a button that turns her walls off.

They stand there for a while, Hope unsure what to do, where to put her arms. She only ever hugged family members and that feels very different so she doesn’t know how to handle this, especially since she doesn’t want Josie to get dirty.

“You can let go now,” she says, blushing when Josie pulls away.

“Oh, there’s paint on your arm,” Hope says, pointing to the spot where her hand brushed the siphoner.

“That’s okay,” Josie assures her but Hope has already a handkerchief in hand, trying to get the paint off but touching Josie more while doing so.

“Shit, sorry,” she mutters.

Josie giggles again. She really found the way to break Hope. Once she realized this, she couldn’t stop anymore. Grabbing Hope’s hand, she pulls the tribrid’s focus back on her.

“It’s okay,” she says, smiling.

Hope blinks a few times, as if trying to come up with a response, but her brain seems to have shut off.

Shaking her head, “What’s wrong with me right now?” Hope wonders out loud. “I’m being absolutely ridiculous.”

“You’re being adorable,” Josie counters. “Like a normal girl.”

“I’m not normal,” Hope argues. “Mythical tribrid and all.”

“Well, right now, you’re one of us.”

Only nodding, Hope says nothing.

“Please don’t avoid me anymore,” Josie pleads.

Hope shakes her head, trying to say ‘I won’t’, not trusting her mouth to say the right thing.

“Wanna do something?”

Clearing her throat, “Like what?” asks Hope.

As Josie didn’t plan for anything, she has to come up with something on the spot. “You painted with Penelope,” she thinks out loud.

“Don’t tell me you’re a painter too,” Hope replies.

“Oh no, definitely not. Do you play any instruments?”

“Piano.”

“Wanna play?” Josie asks, hopeful.

“Sure.”

Josie is about to leave when Hope stops her. “We don’t need to go to the common room,” the tribrid says.

Confused, Josie looks around, trying to see if she’s missed a piano standing in Hope’s room, but she can’t find anything, unsurprisingly. She’d like to believe she wouldn’t miss a piano.

Hope followed her eyes, smirking when Josie looks back at her. Walking to her desk, she removes everything that is laying on it. Once it’s empty, she waves her hand. Josie feels magic coming from the movement and when she looks back at the desk, it’s no longer there. In its place is a piano.

“Somehow this doesn’t surprise me,” Josie says. Of course Hope has a piano. It’s just that extra Mikaelsonness.

“Yeah, I didn’t have enough space so I’m usually using it as a desk,” the tribrid explains. “Sit.”

Josie obliges, sitting down in front of the instrument. “You’re not gonna join me?” she asks when Hope remains standing.

“Maybe later,” says the tribrid. “Do your thing.”

Josie shrugs and starts playing, Hope listening quietly. First painting with Penelope, now music with Josie, they make quite the artistically gifted trio.

The amount of practice Josie has with the piano is substantially less than what she has with the guitar and that is clearly audible in her play by a couple of mistakes. Her movements are still stiff and need a lot of thought. It’s not as fluid and effortless as she’d like it to be.

She definitely needs more practice.

When she’s finished with the song, she turns to Hope so that she can see her reaction. The Mikaelson girl is smiling softly, looking almost regretful, as if she’s thinking about the fact that they could have done this years ago if Hope hadn’t pushed her away all the time.

“You’re good,” Hope compliments.

“I’m not and you know that. I need a lot more practice until I’m somewhat decent.”

“Don’t put yourself down. Even if it wasn’t perfect, I still really enjoyed it,” Hope says, meaning every word.

“Thank you.” Josie has the softest smile. Hope hasn’t met anyone who has a softer one.

“Do you mind,” Hope starts, looking away from Josie’s piercing eyes, “if I paint while you play or whatever? I need to finish this.”

“No, of course not. Don’t let me stop you.”

“Thank you.”

So Hope paints as Josie plays the piano, both perfectly content in the moment.

There isn’t that much to add on the wall, just a bit more and the finishing details. Unfortunately, Hope has a need to make her paintings look absolutely perfect. There can’t be any flaws. She has a bad habit of not stopping when she should, always believing that more is needed for her much desired perfection. Some paintings haven’t been ruined but they aren’t as good as they could have been because she added too much.

As Josie plays, Bexie jumps on the piano and lies down between the siphoner’s arms. Now restricted in the notes she can play, Josie tries her best to continue and to make the cat happy. If the purring is anything to go by, she’s doing a decent job.

Bexie is so cute, Josie thinks. Her completely black fur, her slim and tiny body, in a way she looks like Josie imagines herself if she was to turn into a cat.

Now, after seeing how easy it actually was to get through to Hope, Josie wonders how they managed to not be friends for so long. It seems ridiculous to her now. Maybe her younger self just wasn’t smart or self-assured enough to see through Hope’s poking. Maybe they needed the truth and dare game, to know about their feelings, for them to finally get over their frenemy status.

Maybe they needed Penelope.

It really doesn’t matter to her. What matters is the now and right now, she’s sitting in Hope’s room, playing piano while Hope is painting. Also right now, Penelope is sitting somewhere, hoping that this conversation goes well.

Suddenly stopping in the middle of the song as Josie once again relives the embarrassment of the truth and dare game, her desires for Penelope and Hope at the same time, she covers her eyes. This moment will haunt her for the rest of her life. She didn’t know just how embarrassed one could be, but she sure as hell does now.

“You okay?” Hope asks because of the sudden quiet.

“Other than wishing to evaporate, yes, I’m fine.”

“Why?” Hope chuckles, her back still turned to the siphon so she can’t see how uncomfortable Josie looks.

“It’s just about the things I said during the game.”

“Oh, I’m surprised you didn’t die of embarrassment.”

“Me too.”

After sitting for a couple of minutes, Josie, fed up by her feelings, stands up, getting closer to Hope while Bexie glares at her for going away. Almost falling because her foot was caught under the sheets that protect the ground, Josie narrowly avoids falling on Hope. 

All she meant to do was get a better look at the wall, not embarrass herself even more.

Hope seems to have completely missed her little misstep, not reacting in the slightest. Josie, being the taller of the two, easily watches over Hope’s shoulder, examining the painting. 

When Hope takes a step back, she bumps into Josie, scaring herself. “Josie!” she exclaims, “Don’t sneak up on me.”

“I thought you knew I was behind you,” the siphoner replies apologetically.

“I need to stop painting when people are in the room,” Hope says. “I lose all sense of reality.”

“You’re just focused. I get that too, sometimes, when I’m playing.”

“Luckily I didn’t hit you with paint.”

“No, you only hit yourself,” Josie says, trying not to laugh.

“What? Where?”

Josie points to Hope’s right cheekbone and slowly moves her hand closer, rubbing off the white dots with her thumb.

All the while Hope stares at Josie, losing herself in brown eyes.

“There you go,” Josie says sweetly, turning quiet when she meets Hope’s gaze.

Maybe Penelope was right, Hope thinks; maybe her long forgotten crushes aren’t as dead as she thought. First with Penelope, now with Josie, Hope is so close to kissing the girl opposite to her.

Forcing her eyes shut, she tries to regain her composure, which is hard because she still feels Josie’s intense stare. She takes a few steps back, seeing disappointment flicker in the siphon’s eyes, but not willing to risk anything.

“Twenty minutes, then I’ll be finished.”

“Okay.”

Bexie walks over the piano keys, taking their attention to her. She meows loudly and jumps down. Meowing more while rubbing against Hope’s legs, the tribrid knows what the cat wants.

“Do you want to feed her?”

“Sure,” Josie agrees, again with that bright smile

Wordlessly, Hope points to Bexie’s naps and then to a small refrigerator where she keeps the cat’s food.

“You have everything in your room, don’t you?”

“A loner doesn’t like to leave their room.”

Bexie walks between Josie’s legs, making it unnecessarily difficult for her to actually feed her. The siphoner is back at the piano, shifting her attention between Hope and the cat, both lovely sights for her.

Soon after, Hope is finished, removing tape from the wall and grabbing all the sheets. Once everything is done, she goes to Josie, standing next to her.

She takes a look from the distance, taking in the full painting. It’s sometimes hard to decide if it needs more when you’re standing so close, so it’s good to take a step back and evaluate the painting from a new angle.

Deciding that she is, indeed, finished, she asks Josie, “What do you think?” Normally she isn’t one to seek praise for her work. After all, she never shows her paintings to anyone, but Josie’s opinion does interest her.

“It’s gorgeous,” Josie replies truthfully. “You’re a great artist.”

“Thank you. We can play together now if you still want to.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, let me wash my hands and get out of this dirty shirt.”

“But you look adorable in it,” Josie comments as Hope walks to the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long for them to sit at the piano, playing together, laughing about the missed timings and the lack of coordination. As Josie wants to hear Hope play, she stops, letting Hope alone with the instrument.

She isn’t sure if she should be jealous or happy. Of course Hope is great at this too. As if her painting skills weren’t enough, she has to be good at playing the piano too.

But she’s also used to it. Penelope is great at everything she does, too.

“One of my uncles taught me when I was younger. Every time I was in New Orleans, he wouldn’t let me go without piano lessons.” Hope smiles because of the memories. Marcel and Hope have spent a lot of hours together like this. She misses him, same as the rest of her family, not having seen them in a while – at least not in person, only in astral projections or phone calls. 

“And who taught you how to paint?”

“I kinda did that myself?” Hope shrugs. “My dad used to paint. I guess I picked up his artistic genes. Oh man, I’d be so much better if he had taught me,” she says, staring ahead, suddenly seeming crushingly sad.

Since Josie doesn’t know what else to do, she puts her arms around Hope, hugging her. Hope unconsciously leans into her.

“It’s okay,” the siphoner whispers.

Hope sighs. “I miss him so much.”

“I can’t even imagine,” replies Josie.

“You know what is sad? I have spent more time with your dad than with mine. He couldn’t be around me so I have barely been in the same room as him. And when we finally could be together, he chose to die to save me.”

Josie doesn’t know what to reply to that, but she is happy that Hope is sharing this with her. Almost as if she heard her thoughts, Hope pulls away. “Sorry, I got lost again. I don’t wanna bore you with-”

“No, it’s okay. I’m happy you told me.”

Hope seems surprised by this, that Josie actually cares. She isn’t used to people outside her family caring about her.

“Do you wanna play some more?” Hope asks.

“I’d love to but I still have homework to do and I don’t want to procrastinate until Sunday, you know?”

“Of course. I’ll see you in class then.”

“Yeah. Or we could do the homework together?” Josie asks. “If you want?”

“Chemistry of Magic?” Josie nods. “Uh, okay.”

“Great. I’ll get my stuff. See you in a minute,” Josie says, leaving the room.

They do the homework together, taking way longer than if they did it on their own, as they just talked for most of the time. It’s hard to get something done when you don’t actually do anything for it, but eventually they do manage to finish.

Hope gets them dinner when Josie complains about being hungry.

Talking with Penelope is more fun, but being with Josie is more intimate. It’s soft and gentle; less entertaining but also more vulnerable. A mixture of both would be fantastic.

As they both clean up, Hope lets herself imagine the same world Penelope has – the world in which they are all together. This thought terrifies her.

“Josie?”

“Mh?”

“Why are you hugging me – again?”

“I’m not sure. I just like it.”

Hope remains silent. Maybe hugging is just something that friends do, she theorizes.

“See it as a thank you,” Josie says.

“For what?”

“Today.”

“Okay.”

Hope’s slowly getting better at handling hugs; her brain isn’t immediately shutting off anymore. Additionally, she realizes she may have a thing for hugs. Maybe it is just Josie, but damn, she really likes getting hugged by her. 

“See you tomorrow,” the siphon says.

“Tomorrow?”

“You don’t want to see me tomorrow?”

“I just didn-“

“I’m teasing you. I don’t know, tomorrow or on Monday in class. Either way, have a nice day.”

“Yeah, I’ll enjoy what’s left of it after you’ve stole my Saturday from me.”

Faking affront, “Stolen? You seemed to enjoy yourself, so don’t spin the facts,” Josie says.

“Keep thinking that,” Hope replies, smirking. “Goodbye, Josie.”

“See ya.”

-

Later that evening, when Josie had been long gone and Hope had worked out, the tribrid calls her aunt, in desperate need of advice. After exchanging the typical pleasantries and small talk, Hope gets right to her problem.

“Auntie Bex, what do you think about polyamorous relationships?”

“Why?” Rebekah sounds way too happy already. “When do I get to know the poor souls whose hearts you’ve stolen?”

“Answer the question and I might tell you.”

“Well,” she chuckles, “threesomes are a must have experience for a Mikaelson woman, but I’ve never been in a polyamorous relationship. Why are you asking?”

“There might be two girls who I both like and I think both like me and they also like each other? And I might be terrified and don’t know what to do?” Hope says in one breath.

Rebekah chuckles and says, “If you like them, what’s the problem? Go for it, be happy, and experience love. There’s nothing quite like it,” she muses. “I’m sure they won’t be able to resist your Mikaelson charm.”

“But-“

“But what? You like them, they like you. Even if you just have sex, go for it. You seriously need to feel a woman’s hand on your body.”

Hope can hear Marcel in the background, prompting Rebekah to laugh. “Did you think I was only into those muscular arms of you men?” she asks him. “Say hi to Hope. She has two girlfriends.”

Now on speaker mode, Hope can hear Marcel. “Really? Wait, two?” he asks.

“I know!” Rebekah exclaims happily.

“Good job, Hope,” he praises.

“Ugh, you two are insufferable.”

“She is scared of being in a relationship,” Rebekah tells Marcel.

“I thought she already has two girlfriends?”

“I don’t,” says Hope but is interrupted by her aunt.

“As good as,” she says, “They’re basically together, just not yet official.”

“Don’t be afraid,” Marcel advises. “Threesomes are great.”

“Not you too,” Hope laughs.

“Do what makes you happy, okay? Don’t be-“

“Myself?”

“Maybe? Don’t push them away, is what I wanted to say.”

“Okay,” Hope gives in. “You won’t stop hearing me complain if this ends in disaster,” she threatens. “Also, Auntie, I have a cat! And I named her after you.”

“Really? Show me!”

“Wait. She’s so cute and lovely. I love her so much.” She shifts her phone so that her camera shows her cat. Astral projection would have been much easier but she has learned her lesson of not doing that by seeing too many family members having sex when she did that unannounced. Sometimes she wonders if Kol and Davina ever do something else. So now she rather facetimes with them – much safer.

“Bexie, meet Auntie Bex,” Hope says. The tired cat doesn’t even spare her a glance, instead sleeping contently, looking annoyed, as cats always do.

“Of course, she’s such an asshole.”

“I think I need to visit you,” Rebekah says.

“Why?”

“I have to pet this adorable little thing and I have to meet your girlfriends, give them a good talk.”

“All right, I’m waiting. By the way, did Aunt Freya have a threesome?”

“Why?”

“Well, you said that having a threesome is a must have experience for a Mikaelson woman.”

“I don’t know. You should ask her.”

“I doubt it,” Hope expresses. Freya and threesomes? No way.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. She and Keelin are into some-“

“Stop! Please do not finish this sentence,” Hope pleads, covering her eyes with her free hand, “or I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“I didn’t realize you were this sensitive,” Rebekah chuckles.

“I don’t need to imagine my aunt having some weird sex with my other aunt and God knows who else.” Too late, she’s already seeing the images her brain has come up with.

“You asked me,” Rebekah points out, her smile sweetening her voice.

“A simple yes or no would have been enough, okay?”

“Ah Hope,” Rebekah sighs happily, “you are still so young and naïve. Can you send me a photo of your girlfriends?”

“I don’t have any girlfriend!”

“Soon to be girlfriends,” Rebekah corrects herself, rolling her eyes.

“Mh, no, you’ll have to come if you want to see them.”

“Marcel, we’ll visit Mystic Falls as soon as possible. Hope, love, keep me updated, no matter what happens.”

-

The next evening, after finishing her workout and taking a shower, Hope is yet again disturbed by a knock on her door. She’s barely got time to get dressed but she doesn’t hurry. If anyone wants something from her, they can wait.

When she opens the door, hair still damp, she has to stop herself from rolling her eyes because Penelope and Josie are standing outside, alcohol in hand. Penelope storms in – Josie looking apologetic – and dumps the bottle on Hope’s desk. She squats down to Bexie, petting her.

“Did you miss me?” Penelope asks the cat.

“Uhm, what are you doing here?” Hope asks. Not that she minds – a week ago she would have been annoyed – but she has no idea what they want this time. Everything has been talked about, so what now? Maybe this is just Penelope’s attempt to stop Hope from avoiding them.

“We thought you were lonely so we decided to pay you a visit, isn’t that right, Jojo?”

Josie’s face tells another story; one that Penelope just decided to come here, dragging her along. “Yeah,” she says.

“And we know you miss us,” Penelope says, still busy with Bexie, who, to Hope’s annoyance, is purring contently. Hope is kind of happy that Bexie and the girls get along so well but she will never admit this.

Penelope stands up, stopping Hope from talking. “Don’t waste your breath arguing with me, darling. You and I both know that we aren’t leaving, so be a good host and offer us a glass – I have the drinks.”

Hope nods, willing to listen to her aunt’s advise. “You do remember what happened the last time we drank together?” Hope asks.

“What, hot kisses?” Penelope replies, happily rising her eyebrows, challenging Hope to say something angsty. Hope won’t give her the satisfaction, though.

“I know how much you appreciate my beauty; you don’t need to repeat it all the time.”

“Oh, I will never stop, darling.”

Josie has been awfully quiet, fascinated by their interaction. Penelope has a unique talent, she realizes; she can get Hope to talk like no one else.

Hope hands them both normal glasses. “Sorry, I don’t have extra glasses for specific alcohol,” she says because of Penelope’s expression. “I don’t drink in here,” she adds in her head.

“This will do just fine,” the witch replies, and ruffles through the bottles, shrugging as she takes the vodka. “Mixed or not?” she asks Hope, already knowing Josie’s preference.

“Mixed. Pure is disgusting. But why are we drinking on a Sunday?” Hope asks as Penelope fills her glass with orange juice and vodka. After that she takes a seat on a stool that she uses when she’s painting. Once everyone’s glass is full, Penelope sits down on her bed with Bexie and Josie on her chair. “I don’t mind but we have classes tomorrow.”

“Fuck classes,” says Penelope. “Who cares? We’re the best anyway.”

“She’s right,” Josie agrees. It might have taken Penelope some time and kisses to convince Josie but now the siphoner is ready to drink the entire night.

Penelope looks around, her gaze falling on the freshly painted wall. “You finished it,” she remarks.

“So observant.”

“It looks great, especially the trees on the right.”

Hope smirks, focusing her attention on Josie. A hickey is barely getting covered by her clothes and she generally looks a bit disheveled, in contrast to Penelope’s always immaculate appearance.

“So you are back together,” Hope observes, still looking at the hickey.

“Why, jealous?” Penelope smirks, the same inviting and challenging expression on her face.

“Technically, we’re not,” Josie corrects.

“Technically?” Hope sounds unconvinced. “But make-out sessions are fine?”

“Yes,” states Penelope. “If you want to be kissed, just say it. I’ll gladly fulfill your desires.”

“It’s impossible for you not to be a tease, isn’t it?” Her teasing doesn’t affect her as much anymore; she’s gotten used to it.

“Yep,” Josie answers. “You gotta take it or leave it; she won’t change.”

“Let’s drink to that,” Penelope says. “To me and my irresistible flirting powers.”

Quietly raising their glasses, Hope and Josie share an amused look. Penelope is nothing but fun.

“By the way,” Penelope starts, “this was way too easy, Mikaelson. You just let us in, no complaining or anything. What happened yesterday? Did Josie melt your heart?”

“I say nothing, you complain; if I had said something, you still would have complained,” Hope points out, rolling her eyes.

“Not true.”

“Definitely true,” Josie replies.

“Josie? How could you betray me like this?” Her voice is full of faked hurt.

“Soooorrry.”

“Anyway,” Penelope changes the topic, taking a piece of paper that Hope hadn’t yet noticed. " _Hope Mikaelson may be the most unique of them all_ _," s_ he starts reading. _“She has grown up knowing she is the mythical tri-brid: part witch-_

“Is this my psychological assessment?” Hope asks, partly excited, partly panicked.

“Let me read,” Josie says, eager to also read this. Penelope hands her the sheet and Josie starts reading, “ _Part witch, part werewolf and eventually part vampire – a mélange of supernatural lineages once thought impossible._ ”

“On a scale from one to ten, how bad is this?” Hope asks, fearing the answer.

“Let’s find out,” is all Penelope says, prompting Josie to go on.

_“Hope has thus far been unable to forge meaningful connections with other students at the Salvatore School-"_

“Outdated,” Penelope comments.

“- _not only because of her one-of-a-kind supernatural classification, but also because she’s already endured a lifetime of grief and heartbreak in her seventeen years._ ”

“Correct,” Hope says, taking a sip. “Wait, there’s no truth potion in there this time?”

“What do you think of me?” Penelope asks, appearing offended.

“Josie?” Hope asks.

“No truth potion,” she assures the tribrid. “Should I go on?”

Sighing, “Yes,” Hope says.

“ _Due to her disastrous past, she has resigned herself to isolation, considering it the path that will provide the least heartbreak in her life._ ”

“They forgot the fact that I’m a danger to everyone I love,” Hope adds wryly, ignoring Josie’s soft eyes. “Go on.”

“ _She sees loneliness as less of a burden to bear than her formative experience of loving so deeply and losing so terribly,”_ Josie reads. “Oh Hope,” she says, waiting to hug the tribrid and never let go.

“The best part is yet to come,” Penelope informs.

 _“Clinical Diagnosis,”_ Josie goes on. _“PTSD – Hope suffers-”_ She stops. “Should I really read this?”

“It’s fine. I’ll tell you to stop if it’s too much,” Hope assures her.

“Okay. _Hope suffers from bouts of what she describes as ‘inner darkness.’ She believes this to be a side effect of her childhood possession by the villainous Hollow, but these episodes are just as likely to have been caused by the servere and repeated traumas she has experienced._ ”

“I thought this would be more fun,” Penelope says because of the shifted atmosphere.

“You thought reading about my traumas would be fun?” Hope asks. “Well, I’m pretty sure the episodes are coming from the Hollow. I still hear the voices on some days. Ah, maybe the assessment is right,” Hope considers, “I can’t really tell anymore.

“Has there been this much?” Josie asks.

Hope shrugs. “Not really.” She counts with her fingers. Possessed by the Hollow – twice, death of her mom, death of her father and uncle, killing someone, Henry, that’s what she can think of right now. Not really a trauma but Roman betraying her also flashes through her mind.

Penelope and Josie exchange a look as she’s still counting, already 6 fingers up.

“Do you take lifelong damage from traumatic experiences during your infant years?” Hope wonders. If that’s the case, then she could count almost being sacrificed.

“No idea,” Josie replies. Penelope shrugs. “Maybe subconsciously?” Josie offers.

“Mh. Okay, maybe there are a few,” she says, nodding as she thinks it through one more time.

“Angst,” Penelope whispers.

“Sorry. Josie, please go on, this is fascinating to hear.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Since Hope sounds sure of her decision, Josie continues. “ _Self-alienation – Hope pushes her peer away with liberal use of sarcasm and an acerbic wit. Her dark sense of humor is a defense mechanism she uses to keep others at arm’s length, and to protect herself from ever feeling too hopeful or upbeat about a world that has taught her not to be._ ”

“Accurate.”

“Tell me one more time that angst isn’t the most fitting word for her,” Penelope says to Josie.

“Okay, you’re right.”

“You’ve talked about me and my ‘angst’?” Hope asks, amused.

“All the time,” Penelope answers, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I’m really on your mind, hm?”

“Can’t get you out,” Penelope says dramatically, clasping her hands over her heart.

“She really talks about you all the time,” Josie whispers, holding her hand over her mouth so that it covers the direction to the witch.

Penelope glares at her.

Josie smiles back, continuing to read. “ _Daddy issues – As the child of Klaus Mikaelson, a man who many call ‘evil,’ Hope will have to battle her fear of becoming her father, while holding fast to her love for him and the values he instilled in her: bravery, conviction, perseverance, and loyalty._ ”

As Hope looks away, thinking about her father, Penelope says, “Bravery? Check. Conviction. Absolutely – even if some of her convictions are really stupid. Perseverance? Of course. Loyalty? We shall see.”

“A Mikaelson is nothing but loyal to the people they love,” Hope retorts seriously, looking at Penelope.

“You will have to prove that.” Penelope stares back.

“ _Long term recommendations,_ ” Josie cuts in, interrupting their staring contest. “ _Despite the traumas of her past, Hope is a powerful student with great potential. However, due to her fierce independence and unparalleled supernatural abilities, she has a tendency to take on every challenge herself._ ”

“Unparalleled? She couldn’t even beat me if she tried to.”

“I always knew you were crazy.”

“ _But she will have to learn not every problem can be solved alone – she must eventually be able to work with and rely on other people for their help._ ”

“I’d say I’m pretty good at handling things on my own.” She eyes her painted wall. “No,” she says. “You did that on purpose.”

“I do everything on purpose; you’ll have to be more specific, darling,” Penelope says, eyeing her nails.

“You painted with me.”

“Yes.”

“To show me I can rely on others?”

“No,” the witch answers, “I actually just wanted to paint with you, but I’m glad you’ve come to this conclusion.”

“ _Hope has also expressed the belief that her existence is some sort of ‘cosmic mistake.’ Surrendering to this mindset would mean buckling under the burden of her family legacy, and could lead Hope down a dark and uncharted path. As the tri-brid, Hope has the power to change the world, but she must first accept that she has not only the potential, but the willingness to be the hero she was born to be,_ ” Josie finishes the assessment.

Hope laughs out loud at the last part. “The hero I was born to be? Someone has a lot of faith in me.”

“Do you really believe you’re a mistake?” asks Josie.

“How could I not? Thousand year old original hybrid has a one night stand and I’m conceived through this? All the witches in New Orleans have tried to kill me before I was born because I shouldn’t exist.”

“Your existence is a miracle, not a mistake,” Josie says softly, wishing that Hope could see that.

“Can’t it be both?” She might be the miracle tribrid, but she also shouldn’t exist.

“You’re not a mistake, Hope. If you are a mistake, then so am I and so is Lizzie. Our mom was killed and our coven transferred us in the womb of a vampire. We should have never been born.”

“Well, my family wanted a child and had one,” Penelope states her, in contrast, boring birth story. “Wrong gender but here I am.”

“Mistake or not,” Hope says, “I’m glad you’re both here.”

“How sappy,” Penelope replies.

“I’m glad too,” Josie says, looking sternly at Penelope.

“O-kay,” she drawls, “I’m happy you’re alive too.”

“So sweet of you to say that,” replies Hope.

“You’re welcome.”

“To clarify, when did you read my file?”

“Why?”

“I’m curious.”

“Well, if you have to know, I read it a couple of weeks ago.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised that it’s so short. There are a lot more issues they could have included in the assessment,” Hope says.

“Yes. Angst, for one,” Penelope answers. “Don’t worry, your file is really thick. Took me a whole day to read everything.”

“A whole day? What else is in there?” Josie asks.

“Basically her whole biography and also stuff about her family.”

Hope’s getting angry. Why are there information about her family in her school file? “It’s really fucked up that you read this,” Hope points out. “Some of my most private thoughts are in there and you just read everything.”

Josie nods in agreement. She had been angry too when Penelope told her that she read her file.

Penelope shrugs. “Yes, it is. I don’t have an excuse for it, at least not one that you would accept.”

“What’s your excuse?”

“What I told you before: I need to know who I’m dealing with.”

“You could have just got to know me the normal way.”

Penelope looks at her with an unimpressed expression. “And how does one get to know Hope Mikaelson?” she asks, fake-thinking about it. “Oh, I know! You don’t,” she finishes unenthusiastically, emptying her glass. 

“You could have tried.”

“Like Josie and Lizzie did so successfully all these years? Honestly, Hope, we wouldn’t be here if I didn’t read your file and that’s not me defending my actions; it’s a fact. Like it or not.”

“She does have a point,” Josie says. “But what matters is the now.”

“What happened to Mikaelson and darling?” Hope asks Penelope.

“You don’t like serious me; you like the flirting me,” the witch realizes.

“Who knows?”

Walking to the desk to get a refill, Penelope purposefully shows off her body, knowing that both girls will look at her. Sometimes it’s too easy.

“What are you looking at?” she asks Hope, who doesn’t react to her words, shamelessly continuing to stare.

“What’s the goal for tonight?” the tribrid asks. “What’s the great plan you’ve come up with?”

Sitting back down on the bed, Penelope stares at Hope, keeping quiet for a moment and building the anticipation. Looking absolutely serious, “A glorious threesome, that’s the goal,” she says.

“I’m down if you are,” Hope replies, smirking.

Josie’s eyebrows rise. Penelope smirks back.

“Really?” asks Penelope.

“Don’t trust me?”

“You’ll have to convince me.”

“Josie, what do you think about this plan?” Hope inquires, turning her gaze to the siphon.

“I’m not drunk enough, is what I think,” she answers, taking a last sip before refilling her glass.

“Good idea.” Hope follows Josie, taking the bottle out of her hand once she’s done. “You know, I could like, drink three times as much as you two and still feel no effects.”

“Big words for such a small girl,” Penelope says.

“We’re literally the same height,” Hope points out.

“You’re both tiny,” Josie asserts. “Lizzie towers over both of you.”

“Even better, what does Lizzie think about our little plan?” Hope asks Josie.

“She was the first to talk about a relationship between us three. Although she did say there was no way in hell that it would happen.”

“Isn’t it nice to prove Lizzie wrong?” Penelope questions.

“Lizzie did what?” Hope is shocked.

“I know, I know. We had the same reaction,” Josie answers. She still can’t quite believe it.

“Wow, what happened?”

“Uh-” Josie’s not sure if she should tell them “-she and Rafael…“

“No way,” says Penelope. “When?”

“After the game.”

“Are they in a relationship now or was that a onetime thing?” Hope inquires.

“Honestly, I have no idea.” Her sister’s maybe relationships haven’t been her focus lately.

“I didn’t expect that, I have to admit.”

“I think none of us did.”

“Anyway,” Penelope says, “let’s get back to the real topic.” She shifts her attention between both girls. “Threesomes.” She chuckles because of Hope’s eye roll and Josie’s sigh. “You still have time to back out, Mikaelson.”

“What, scared?” Hope counters.

“Me? Scared? Have you met me before?”

“Sadly, yes, I have.” She tries to sound disappointed.

“What would I be scared about?”

“Being vulnerable.” Penelope’s expression tells Hope she hit right on the mark. “I don’t need your file to understand you.”

“And that’s why I love you. You’re more than just a beautiful face.”

“Love? So clingy already.” Hope would be lying if she said her heart wasn’t beating like mad.

“You two are so cute,” Josie says.

“Bexie is cute,” Penelope replies, earning an agreeing meow from the cat. “We are hot.”

“Sure, my hot not-yet-girlfriend.”

“Not yet, huh?” Hope asks.

“Mhm,” Penelope hums, “one part’s still missing,” she says, looking at the tribrid.

“As I said, I’m down if you are.”

“Okay, hold on for one second,” Josie orders. “Because as much as I enjoy this banter, I wanna know what’s going on. Are you serious or are you just teasing?”

While Penelope looks as cool and unaffected as always, Josie’s shifting and rubbing her hands in anticipation and fear. She might have messed this up by directly addressing the issue. Everything was fine as long as it was playful banter, now it’s serious. As fun as this has been, she just wants clarity.

Staying quiet as she drinks more, Hope prepares herself for reality. This could be a disastrous miscalculation. “I’m serious,” she says confidently.

“Ah,” Penelope sighs, “finally. You see, darling, this was my goal for today.”

“So… Does that mean we’re, like, girlfriends now?” She’s uncharacteristically nervous. Hope is never nervous. That’s just not her. The last time she was nervous was probably when she met her family for the first time.

Penelope stands up, first walking to Josie and taking her hands, then doing the same with Hope. Now standing together, Penelope quietly replies, “That, and so much more. But I have to ask – What changed your mind?”

“About relationships or what do you mean?”

“Us and relationships in general.”

Shifting her gaze between Penelope and Josie, Hope says, “I had a talk with one of my aunts. She told me to go for it.”

“Remind me to thank her,” Penelope says, leaning closer to Hope.

“She also said,” Hope’s voice is barely above a whisper, “that it’s a must have experience to feel a woman’s touch.”

“You have no idea how right your aunt is,” Penelope says, closing the distance, softly kissing the tribrid. To not let Josie feel left out, she quickly turns her attention to the siphon, also bringing their lips together.

As Josie and Hope kiss, “I was right, this is so hot,” comments Penelope. “And you taste like orange juice.”

Hope giggles, never having felt this light before. While she still knows why she always stayed alone, she is also mad at herself. This could have been a reality way earlier in her life. Sometimes she should really listen to other people and she is eternally grateful for having listened to Rebekah.

“I wonder why?” Hope replies.

“I think my heart is gonna explode,” Josie says because of her incredibly fast beating heart.

“I’m known to have this effect,” Penelope claims.

Sometimes it’s really annoying Hope how unaffected Penelope seems by everything. “Shut up,” she commands, kissing the witch again. “I’m so glad I can do this now.”

“If you-“ Penelope isn’t allowed to have any snarky replies, again interrupted by Hope’s lips. When they pull apart, Penelope is laughing.

“This is not the best tactic to stop me from talking,” she says.

Hope is back at drinking as Penelope pulls Josie on the bed, almost falling on Bexie. The cat hisses in response. After refilling their glasses, Hope brings them to the bed, sitting on the end of it, while the other two girls are occupying her pillows. Luckily, she has a big bed.

Bexie finds a place in the middle.

“You know what you deserve?” Penelope asks, her focus directed at Hope, smile so uncharacteristically happy for her. Not waiting for an answer, “You deserve more than one girlfriend. You deserve two girlfriends!” she exclaims, alcohol loosening her tongue.

“I’ve never agreed more with you in my life,” says Josie, taking a sip. “The alcohol was a good idea.”

“I only have good ideas.”

“If only that were true.”

“Hey.”

“The breakup was definitely not a good idea,” Josie counters.

“Considering where we are now, maybe it wasn’t too bad, don’t you agree?”

Hope is observing them, soft expression on her face. Josie was right. She is either dreaming or they are all high. This would be a very weird and elaborate dream, though. Probably too sophisticated for her subconscious. Whatever it is, she plans on enjoying every minute of it.

“Stop thinking so much,” Penelope tells her.

Hope smiles. “Why did you bring vodka? Whiskey and Bourbon are so much better.”

“Vodka is our go to,” Josie answers. There is no real reason for it; it’s just the first thing they drank together.

“Wait a second,” Hope says, grabbing her phone. “I need to do something real quick. No make out sessions without me,” she orders.

“So possessive,” Penelope whispers into Josie’s ear.

It doesn’t take long for her aunt to pick up her phone.

“Hello, love,” she says.

“I have two girlfriends!” Hope exclaims. “That’s it, I just wanted to tell you.”

“I’m so proud of you. Have fun and stay safe,” Rebekah says with a wink. “MARCEL,” is the last thing Hope hears before she hangs up.

“Okay, where were- I said no making out!”

“Sorry,” Josie says as she pulls away. Penelope is smirking invitingly.

Shaking her head, Hope resumes her place at the end of the bed. They talk and drink for a while. It doesn’t take long for Penelope to force Hope to lie between her and Josie. While Hope protested at first, she is happy to be where she is.

Both girls are touching her and it feels like heaven, her body releasing hormones it hasn’t properly released in a long time.

“I love your name,” Hope says. “Penelope,” she hums. “It just sounds so good and has such a long history. I believe the first record we have of it is from the Odyssey. I can’t stand it when people call you Pen or Penny or whatever else. Your name deserves to be spoken in all its glory.”

Penelope laughs. “Well, thank you. Everything about me is great.”

“But Penny sounds so pretty,” Josie says.

“Hey, call her what you want; I’m just stating my opinion here.”

The three girls have to share a small space, lying pressed together, since Bexie is pretty much cutting the bed in half, leaving the girls with not a lot of room even though the bed is huge.

“How are we all in bed and yet the cat takes the most space?” Penelope inquires.

“It’s her bed, not ours,” Hope says sagely.

“Penelope,” Josie says, “we are only Hope’s second and third favorite girls. Bexie is number one.”

“Oh,” Hope sits up. Her face turns dead serious. “One thing you both should know,” she begins, looking intensely at both of them. “I don’t think it’s necessary but I have to say it. Never, ever and I mean never-” Josie didn’t know anyone could look and sound this serious “-try to get between me and my family. That’s a battle you’ll always lose and you’ll regret it if you try.”

The siphoner nods, a little bit intimidated.

Penelope just says, “Chill. We won’t.”

“Good,” Hope says happily, lying back down between them.

Bexie, picking up on the momentary tonal shift, stands up and walks on Hope, first over her legs, then over her stomach and eventually settling down on her boobs.

“She took the prime spot,” Penelope laughs, looking a bit jealous.

Josie just nods, looking at the cat.

“You have no idea how often I wake up with her sitting on me like this,” Hope says. “Oh no.” As the cats like to do, Bexie starts kneading her position. “Ow, ow, ow.” The cat’s claws keep piercing her skin. Hope does her best not to move. Her only saving grace is that Bexie is still very small and doesn’t weigh a lot.

“I can’t blame her,” Penelope replies. “I’d do the same. Scratch that, I will do the same.”

“Ow. Bexie, sleep!” She hopes the cat will stop soon.

Penelope pets the cat, sometimes accidently – her words – touching Hope’s boobs. “I’m sorry, they’re just so big,” she says after Hope glares at her when she did it again.

“Oh God, yes,” Josie agrees, alcohol taking more and more of an effect on the siphon and the witch. “So big.”

Hope chuckles. It’s hard being mad at the two; she has learned this the past week, but it’s especially hard now because they are drunk.

“Thanks, I guess.”

They continue like this, more talking, less drinking. Well, Hope is still drinking. All the while, Hope can’t move because of the cat and the girls use this to leave their marks on Hope’s neck, repeating it every few minutes because Hope’s healing powers erases them after seconds.

“And you say I’m possessive,” Hope tells Penelope.

“We all know you’ll do the same to use once you can, my little wolf.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Hope’s voice has the same tone as always when she talks about her father or mother.

“Okay, darling.”

“That’s better.”

“I never wanna let you go,” Josie says, sounding a bit like a child. “I could hug you forever.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to hug me in the future.”

In response, Josie snuggles deeper into Hope. Bexie still doesn’t show any signs of wanting to move.

“Hope, you have a cat,” Josie reminds her.

“I think we established that,” Hope replies.

“I still can’t believe it. Does my dad know?”

“No.”

“I’m scared a vampire will eat her.”

“The vampire who even dares to look at her the wrong way will die a painful death,” Hope says, 100% serious. Okay, maybe only 99%.

“You love being extra, don’t you?” Penelope asks.

“It’s in my blood.”

It’s way past any reasonable bedtime – both for weekend and school day. Luckily they don’t plan on going to class the next day.

Hope feels a bit ridiculous – happy but ridiculous. She’s lying in between Josie and Penelope, her cat is sleeping on her boobs, they are moderately drunk, and all of this after a week in which she was still profoundly convinced she would always be alone.

By now, she should be aware of how much one day can change. Three days in particular have shaped her life tremendously before. Maybe she can add this day to the list. It would be the first good one.

“You’re so protective,” Josie says lightly, sounding tired and content.

“Only for those I love.”

“So everyone who looks at us the wrong way will die a painful death?”

“I know you’re capable of handling that yourself. But if you want me to… sure.”

“Sorry, Dr. Saltzman,” Penelope imitates Hope’s voice, “I had to kill him. He looked at Josie and no one’s allowed to do that.”

“You suck at imitations.”

“We’ve found something she’s not great at!” Josie exclaims, too happy to finally have found something.

“It’s not my strong suit,” Penelope admits.

“You can’t be great at everything,” Hope says. Bexie finally stands up, leaving to eat, allowing Hope to move again. “Thank you,” she sighs in relief. She rubs her chest which is full of cat hair.

Shifting her position to be opposite of Josie and Penelope, Hope sits on her knees. She finishes her glass. For some time she has been the only one drinking, with Josie and Penelope stopping.

“My Uncle once said, ‘We’re bound forever to those with whom we share blood. While we might not choose our family, their bond is our greatest strength.’ He was, in my opinion, wrong about one thing. We can absolutely choose our family,” she looks at Penelope, “We can choose who we are opening our hearts to.”

“Okay, enough vodka for you. You get too happy,” Penelope says, trying to change the topic.

“It’s okay to be vulnerable,” Josie tells the witch.

Hope pulls them in for a group hug, trying her hardest to savor this moment as much as she can. Hopefully it will be a day she will never forget.

“I don’t like being vulnerable,” Penelope mumbles. Punching both girls on the arms, “You better not break my heart or I’ll destroy you,” she threatens.

“I hate being left alone,” Hope says, “I hate it! So _you_ better don’t leave me.”

“Anything you wanna add, Jojo?”

“I hate being forgotten and being left behind.”

“We will never forget you,” Hope assures her.

“And we won’t leave you.”

It’s quiet, no one knowing what to say.

“Let’s sleep,” Hope tells them, again taking the spot in the middle. After a bit of fighting with the blankets, they find a position that is comfortable for everyone. Bexie joins them too, stealing, as always, most of the blanket. Hope’s used to it.

It’s so warm and just perfect, too good for what she believes is her reality.

“Goodnight.”

Josie is already asleep, snuggled deep against Hope.

“Hope?”

“Penelope?”

Hope, for some reason, expected some kind of confession, something sweet or vulnerable. She should have known better.

“I’m a great kisser, don’t you agree?”

Chuckling softly, “All you had to do was ask for more,” Hope says, fulfilling the witch’s wish, kissing her softly.

“Let’s sleep, okay? We have all the time for more.”

“You’re right. Your first time has to be spectacular.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Hope mumbles, sleep slowly taking her over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I could have split this up in three different chapters, but since I love long chapters like this, you have to deal with it.
> 
> Do I know anything about alcohol? No, I do not. 
> 
> Maybe I’ll write another chapter in which Rebekah and Marcel visit and where I explore the girls as they handle their relationship. I don’t know yet. I never expected this fic to get so long. When I planned it, I thought it would be around 12000 words total. I had a good time writing this so maybe I’ll get back to it.  
> Update: I will write a third chapter


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mainly inspired by The Last of Us Part 2 (the most depressive experience ever, god dammit, Neil Druckmann, I love you) and real life and exurb1a – this guy is the fucking goat (no, not the animal, it’s an acronym) and all of you should check his YouTube out, and the writers among you should look at his second channel (exurb2a), as it has an absolutely terrific series (called Catastrotivity) on writing advice without which you wouldn’t be reading this chapter (+ ‘thoughts about writing’ on his main channel and all his other videos tbh). I strongly recommend every writer to watch this series, it is really good.
> 
> This chapter is more serious than the first two. Not terribly so and still in line with the first two (at least I think so) and I should warn you that this isn’t the sweet phosie chapter that you may be expecting. You may need to use Google translator at one point towards the end to understand what they are saying. It’s not important but if you wanna know, I trust your ability to use the all-knowing Google. I mean, hey, maybe your Latin and Old Norse skills are insane. Idk.
> 
> Mistakes will be fixed eventually. Whenever I’m in the mood for it. I think you rather have the chapter now than later when I finally did my job.
> 
> Here, beautiful, beautiful music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=laLjSp3XC7A

Three loud, aggressive knocks almost pull Hope out of the bliss she is currently feeling. Penelope doesn’t let that happen, though, keeping the tribrid’s thoughts completely occupied with the help of her tongue.

Aunt Rebekah was right: You just have to feel a woman’s touch. How did she live so long without having anyone close? If she could, she would slap her younger self for being so stupid. Paradise was just a few doors away for all this time. 

“HOPE ANDREA MIKAELSON!” More knocks. “Give me my sister back!”

Said sister is currently making magic with her fingers and she isn’t casting a spell.

“Josie, I know you’re here. You haven’t come out since Sunday!” It’s Thursday. The girls have been busy.

Fed up, Lizzie tries to open the door, only to realize that there is a spell blocking her. Nothing easier than to siphon a spell, so Lizzie does just that, absorbing the magic. Once the spell is gone, she storms in.

“Lizzie!” Josie’s head pops out from under the blanket. Penelope doesn’t bother to stop, holding Hope in place with her hands on her hips and continuing her mission to give Hope an unforgettable tenth time.

“Fuck,” Hope moans. She tries to get Penelope to stop, but the witch is unrelenting. And quite honestly, nothing can destroy this moment, not even Lizzie Saltzman staring at her while Penelope is going down on her.

“Lizzie, go!”

“Will you come back after you’re done here?” Lizzie asks.

“Can you please go?” Josie urges as Hope moans even louder.

“Are you coming back?!”

“Yes! Go!”

Lizzie thankfully gives in, leaving but not before glaring at Hope and Penelope, who don’t notice, too busy with each other. Josie joins her girlfriends again.

They’re in bed, out of breath and smiling happily once Penelope was confident that Hope has been thoroughly satisfied. The girls are an entanglement of limbs, blankets, and there is a cat somewhere, too.

The last few days have probably been the best in Hope’s life and that’s not just because of the sex. Between “glorious threesomes”, as Penelope put it, has been a lot of cuddling, music, art, and a lot of talking. Sometimes Hope surprises herself by how much she can actually talk when people really listen. That is exactly what Penelope and Josie do, they listen, they pay attention, they care. Hope can’t ask for more. But, of course, their bubble of perfection had to burst at some point. It’s surprising that it even lasted this long.

“Lizzie’s right,” Josie says, and Penelope groans.

“Don’t mention your sister after sex.”

“Sorry. Still, as great as this week has been thus far, we have to get back to our lives eventually.”

“Why would you wanna ruin perfection?”

“We have to get back to class at some points,” Hope joins in.

“And here I thought you love hiding in your room for all eternity”.

“I wish-” she kisses Penelope, “this could-” and Josie, “go on for ever. But it can’t.”

“Of course it can. You only have to want it,” Penelope whines, putting her arms around both girls and pushing them down. “I will just tie you up.”

“Oh, you’re into bondage, huh?” Hope says.

“Kinky,” Josie adds.

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t love being at my mercy,” Penelope tells Hope with her seductive voice.

“Sorry, I’m the one with power here. And I’m hungry.”

“Too bad, I just had something delicious to eat.”

Josie giggles and Hope rolls her eyes. “Is that an invitation?” the tribrid asks.

“You have a functioning brain, figure it out.”

As Hope and Penelope get closer, Josie moves her hands in front of their faces and says, “Before you two do more, let me say goodbye. I really gotta go. There’s a meltdown coming if I ignore her any longer.”

Hope kisses Josie goodbye while Penelope complains, but Josie leaves them.

“Where were we?” Penelope asks.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Hope says, on her way to the bathroom. “Be my guest,” she calls over her shoulder. The witch immediately follows, joining Hope under the water.

“Enjoying your breakfast?” Penelope asks, breathing heavily. Wait, breakfast or lunch? Dinner? What time is it? She has no idea and she doesn’t care. Not when Hope Mikaelson is on her knees for her. What a sight that is… simply mesmerizing.

Hope is just a mesmerizing girl all around.

Later that day, Hope finally moves everything in her room back to its original place. Her bed is back where it used to be and so is her closet.

“OK, what was the point of painting on your wall if you just hide it behind your closet?”

“The point was to sort out my feelings you two left in a mess.”

Penelope moves next to her, giving Hope her best side-eyed unimpressed bitchy face “Sorry for kissing you, darling.”

“Thank you very much, love.”

“I’ll never do it again. I promise.”

“If you expect me to beg for you to not do this, you’re wrong. I can take it. After all, I had seventeen years of training.”

“Oh, Hope,” Penelope sighs dramatically, as if she is about to reveal some great truth, “now that you know how my lips feel, you’ll never be able to live without it.”

Hope knows she’s right. So she kisses the witch who, despite her promise, does not back away.

“Mh, you may be right on this one,” Hope says.

“When am I ever wrong?” Penelope asks, breaking the kiss and walking to Hope’s piano. She moves her fingers over the keys from left to right. “I need your help with something.”

“You need help?”

“Yes, I said that.”

“Well?”

“Distract Dr. Saltzman for me.”

“Why?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Penelope.”

“It will bring us a lot of fun.”

“Nah.”

“Hope,” Penelope whines, pouting her lips, “please.”

“What do I get in return?”

“What do you want?” Penelope wiggles her eyebrows like she often does.

“I have everything I want,” Hope says, smirking.

“Since when are you so… anti-you? Where’s the angst?”

“You have to blame yourself for that, love.”

“I’m not complaining,” Penelope whispers, kissing Hope softly. “So, will you help me?”

“Always.”

-

“You’re still alive. Good to know,” Dr. Saltzman says when he sees the tribrid.

“Hello, Hope. Oh, hello, Dr. Saltzman, how are you?” Some people have no manners, seriously.

“What has my daughter done to you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said hello and asked me how I am.”

“I always do that!”

“No, Hope, you don’t. You give me a death glare every time I greet you with a friendly smile.”

Hope opens her mouth to argue but thinks better off it. He may be right on this one. “Do you have time?”

“For what?”

“Training.”

He tsks. “After you skipped all your classes and didn’t come to our sessions without informing me before, you expect me to just continue?”

“Yes.”

“All right, let’s go.”

Hope gives Penelope a look as she takes the headmaster to the dock where they usually train when the weather is good.

“So,” Alaric begins, blocking a punch and returning with a knee, “was Lizzie being overdramatic when she told me about you, Josie and Penelope?”

She dodges his knee and hits him with a left hook. “Depends on what she said.”

“I won’t repeat her language, but she pretty much said your room has turned into a sex dungeon.” He manages to hit her with a jab because she was laughing.

“If you have to know,” Hope says, evading his straight right and tossing him on the ground, “I’m in a relationship with them.”

Groaning on the ground because of his hurting back, Alaric takes Hope’s hand to help him up.

“Then it’s time.”

“Time for what?” His end-of-the-world expression is making her anxious.

“Time for the talk. You might not believe it but I’m not completely oblivious to what or who my daughters take an interest in.”

“Did you give Penelope the same speech?”

“Tried to. She can be very intimidating. Anyhow, I expect you to treat my daughter with the respect and care she deserves. And don’t get between her and Lizzie. They both rely on each other more than they realize.”

“Of course.”

Alaric puts an arm around Hope and says, “I’m proud of you. You know that, right?”

Hope smiles in response.

“Trust me, you missed a lot when you isolated yourself. You won’t regret taking this chance.”

“Hopefully you’re right.”

They train more, with Hope’s happiness level at an all-time high. Life has done a 180 and become great from out of nowhere.

-

A week later, when the girls have gotten used to a normal life with school and all that boring gist, they find themselves back again in Hope’s room. They spend most of their time there, even though Penelope also has a single room. However, Hope’s room is bigger and just comfier for the three of them.

“I’ve got something for you,” Penelope says from her spot on Hope’s bed. Bexie is cuddled up next to her.

Hope doesn’t react, solely focused on the canvas in front of her, while Josie plays piano. She has made great progress with the help of Hope and Penelope, who are both annoyingly good at it.

Penelope gives Bexie a look. With a snap of her fingers, Hope’s paintbrush falls to the ground and the piano keys become unmovable.

“What?” Hope says.

“I’ve got something for you two. C’mon.”

“I’m busy.”

“No, you’re painting, you can take a break.”

Josie has already decided that Penelope will win this argument, so she drops on the bed, careful to not hit Bexie. She pets the cat as she listens to Hope and Penelope talking.

“What is so important that I have to stop my therapy session?”

“Josie’s psychological assessment,” Penelope replies, and when Hope turns around in surprise, she throws the sheet at her.

So that is why she needed to distract Dr. Saltzman. “You okay with this?” Hope asks Josie.

“I’m not too sure about the contents but sure, let’s find out.”

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

“Jeez, read, will you?” Penelope complains.

“OK, asshole. _Behavioral Observations:_ _One half of the powerful Gemini twins, Josie is levelheaded, borderline brilliant-”_

“That’s my girlfriend,” Penelope beams.

_“-and comfortable in her pansexuality.”_

“Seriously, though, what’s that pan crap, Jojo? Why would you be into boys when girls are so amazing?”

“Whoa, I just like humans, OK? Or, well, supernaturals. You know what I mean. Gender doesn’t matter. And besides, boys aren’t terrible.”

“Imagine believing that, like, fifty percent of the world’s population sucks,” Hope says. “And I swear I have seen you make out with boys before.”

“OK, fine, go to Landon and Rafael. I bet they’d be open for threesomes with you.”

“Shut up,” Hope says quietly.

“That’s what I thought,” Penelope replies smugly. “Read, tribrid.”

“All right, witch.” Hope clears her throat and reads, _“Though well liked and her twin’s social equal in every way, Josie is content to play second fiddle to her sister Lizzie.”_ Hope looks up. “Any comments?”

“Not from me,” Penelope says.

Josie shrugs so Hope goes on. _“With Gemini’s prone to bipolar behavior, see Kai Parker file-_ Who’s Kai Parker?” Hope asks.

“I have no idea,” Josie says. “Probably some relative of us. Dad never talks about our mother’s side of the family other than they were a powerful coven and that they all died.”

“Well… _With Gemini’s prone to bipolar behavior, the stable Josie is quick to protect Lizzie when her sister starts to go off the rails._ ”

“That is what sisters do, we protect each other,” Josie says.

Family protects each other. If Hope can relate to one thing, it’s this.

_“Having never known their biological mother, the twins were raised by Caroline Forbes. Now at this key time in their development, with their mother often absent, their need for their father’s approval and love is heightened.”_

“I have a thing for girls with daddy issues,” Penelope says, rubbing her chin. “Cool.”

Hope raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. _“Alaric’s bond with Hope Mikaelson and having to share his attention with the rest of the school, has led to each daughter alternately striving for perfection and acting out.”_ Hope looks at Josie and says, “I’m sorry. I never meant to-”

“Not your fault, Hope. Even though Lizzie and I blamed you in the past, it was still my father’s decision.”

Penelope is petting Bexie absentmindedly. She is treading dangerous waters, her hand near Bexie’s belly and the cat hates that. 

_“In general, Josie is the calm to her sister Lizzie’s storm. Clinical Diagnosis: Classic Codependent – Puts her sister’s and other’s needs above her own. Sublimating her own inner turmoil to be in service of her sister. Conflict averse in all situations.”_

“Forming full sentences is hard, huh?” Penelope says.

Josie fakes a yawn. “Is there anything new in there?”

 _“Possible_ …” Hope stops, blinking at the sheet to see if that is really what she is reading. _“_ Possible _Abandonment Issues – Loss of her biological mother. Absent mother. Father with divided attention.”_

“I’m beginning to think that these assessments aren’t that great,” Josie says, amused. “You said that there should be more in yours and then they put a ‘possible’ diagnosis in mine? You’d think Emma, or whoever wrote these, would be, I don’t know, like, more thorough at their job.”

“Yeah, I don’t know, my was questionable at best… Daddy issues… Diagnosis of the year. I definitely have abandonment issues, but I guess they weren’t important enough to mention. Let’s face it, daddy issues are just more important.”

Penelope adds, “They’re stupid but fun to read.”

 _“Family History of Psychosis._ That’s it – that’s your diagnosis, Josie."

“Wow, good to know.”

“Let’s find out what they recommend you for a healthy future,” Hope chuckles. _“Josie plays the shadow twin to her sister, internalizing her darkest thoughts and ignoring her own needs and inner turmoil in order to keep a lid on Lizzie’s. Given their Gemini bloodline, leaving Josie with no outlet for her darkest inclinations is dangerous.”_

“Dangerous girlfriends with daddy issues – kinda hot.”

“I can give you an outlet,” Hope tells Josie. “You can train with me. It works for me.”

“Sounds good.” Maybe she could learn more advanced magic from Hope and spells that are actually useful in a fight.

“Hello? What about me?”

“Do you need an outlet for your darkest inclinations too?”

“Perhaps I do, Mikaelson.”

“Then you’re welcome to join, Penelope.”

“So sweet of you. Who’s the more dangerous of you two?” Penelope asks, taking a good look at both of her perfectly unintimidating-looking girlfriends. Well, to be fair, Hope does have a dangerous aura, mainly coming from that glint in her eyes. Josie looks like she could not hurt a fly, whereas Hope looks like she will break your arm if you annoy her.

Maybe it is just the Mikaelson name and the power coming from her that makes Penelope think like that.

Ignoring the question, Hope continues to read. _“For Josie to have any hope of a future, she’ll need to break the habit of codependence and learn to put her own needs first. But given Lizzie’s instability, as Josie moves toward independence, she could find the cost of her freedom is a break with a sister she clearly cherishes.”_

“So, basically, I’m supposed to give up on Lizzie, leave her alone and do my own thing? What a load of shit.”

“You’re supposed to take care of yourself too, and not just Lizzie.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing right now? I’m here with you and not her. And I don’t need to abandon Lizzie for that.”

“Relax, Jojo, you’re doing great. We wouldn’t be in a relationship if that wasn’t the case.”

“I’m never talking to Emma again. This is so stupid.”

“Josie,” Hope says, a small smile on her face, “if a bad psychological assessment is your biggest problem, well, you don’t have much to complain about. Life is good for you.”

“Yeah, life is good.”

Bexie meows loudly.

“Hungry?”

Meow.

“Is this cat somehow magical? She seems to understand every word we say,” Penelope says.

Meow.

“No, as far as I know, Bexie is an ordinary crazy cat,” Hope answers, watching Bexie trot over Penelope, towards her naps. “A hungry but ordinary cat.” Hope gets up to make her cat dinner, Bexie following her and meowing all the while.

“You know,” Penelope begins, tone sounding rueful, “the moment we got together, wasn’t is anticlimactic? I had this grand plan for our development and then you two just ruined it. You, darling, with all your angst and issues, were supposed to believe that you can’t be with us, that you put us in danger and we would slowly, over months and months, crack your armor until the inevitable would happen. But nooo, you took all the fun away and ruined my plan.”

“Hey,” Josie complains, “I just wanted clarity. Not everyone likes not knowing what is really going on. Besides, we are not in a movie where we have to do a year-long will-they-won’t-they for someone’s entertainment. I’m quite happy with how everything turned out.”

“What did you expect?” Hope scoffs. “Emotional music, endless unresolved sexual tension, the culmination of an epic journey? Josie’s right, we are not in a movie.”

“Well, yeah, kinda. But we could act like we are in one. Would have been more fun than the snore fest we had. I’m oh so very disappointed in us.”

“Hey, I can kick you out and retreat into my loner self for you to pull me back if you get off on being a cliché,” Hope says, amused.

“Who are you calling a cliché, daddy’s girl.”

“Who knows? Who knows?” Hope whispers. “My mom once told me how my father fell in love with his therapist and how it took them _years_ to finally admit their feelings for each other. And then she died. Is that what you wanted?”

Penelope opens her mouth, but closes it again, then she sighs. “Is there any story you have that doesn’t end in tragedy?”

“Nope,” Hope smirks.

Hope gets back to the canvas she was working on earlier. Meanwhile, Josie and Penelope sit at the piano, filling the room with music.

Painting truly is Hope’s therapy, more so than any talk with Emma. For so long in her life there had been destruction, death, whereas painting gives her a chance to create, to bring something good in this wretched world. This, however, isn’t the main reason for why she paints. Far more important is that bringing the different brushes and the various colors to a canvas gives her a way to exorcize her inner darkness, the haunting thoughts that keep her awake at night turn into portraits or landscapes when she paints.

Horror turns into beauty by the force of her will.

Painting lets her relax like nothing else. So often after a stressful day, Hope drops everything and paints for hours, sometimes the entire night. There is nothing quite like it.

Furthermore, applying her paintbrushes on the many canvases she has lets her forget, it gives her an opportunity to think calmly and clearly, and it connects her with her dad. She would swear that he is sitting behind her, watching as she creates.

Most of all, painting gives her an out from reality. When she is focused on the canvas and how the colors come together to form a beautiful image, life seems bearable, almost good, not the tragedy that she has come to know.

Fortunately, she has two constant reminders of this now.

‘ _Life is good.’_ The words echo through her head, leaving a soft smile on her face, as she feels the warm energy that is coming from her girlfriends.

What in the world did she do to deserve these two?

Hayley once told her daughter that Klaus planned to compel all her suitors who failed to meet his expectations to the priesthood. Now, with her girlfriends laughing because Josie messed up, Hope wonders what her father would do now. What would he even think about her sexuality in the first place?

What would he think of Penelope and Josie?

Her mom would tease her to no end about Josie. Honestly, Hope’s quite surprised she hasn’t heard anything from Aunt Freya about it. Thinking about it, she hasn’t heard anything from anyone in her family since she last talked with Rebekah. Which is strange, but she doesn’t give it too much thought.

She has so many questions for her parents, all of which will never be answered.

Her parents will never meet Penelope and Josie.

At least Hope is fulfilling one of her mother’s wishes, even exceeding it: _‘Have at least one totally epic love.’_

Hayley most likely didn’t have a polyamorous relationship in mind when she said that, but it should qualify as epic. Right?

Hope sighs, frustrated. The anniversary of Henry’s death wasn’t long ago, and the anniversary of her mom’s death has just recently passed, with the one for her dad and uncle’s coming up soon, so her thoughts naturally drift to them more often. Nevertheless, she asks herself why – Why can’t she let go? Why can’t she focus on the good that has entered her life?

Her past won’t leave her alone. For about a week she thought she could let it all behind, but everything is coming back.

Clenching her fist around the paintbrush, Hope could scream. She could cry. Her mind is plaguing her with thoughts about her past when happiness is right next to her, playing piano, being the best thing to happen to her in so long.

All she has to do is take it and finally be happy.

But then she thinks about how Penelope and Josie could end up like Henry, or Josh, or her parents.

Hope, now in the bathroom, washes her hands and looks in the mirror. She promises herself that she won’t drag the mood down when she gets back out. They shouldn’t have to deal with this.

When she opens the door, she is immediately welcomed by Penelope, who kisses her lightly and afterwards leads her to the piano.

“We play, Josie sings, all right?”

“What are we playing?”

“Can’t help falling in love.”

Hope gives her a look that Penelope easily reciprocates. Somehow the witch doesn’t need to say a word for Hope to understand that Penelope didn’t miss that Hope just went through something mentally.

Somehow Hope knows that Penelope knows.

Josie is already looking at Hope when she turns to her.

“That,” the siphon says, “or you can tell us about what you were thinking about when you broke that paintbrush in two.”

“Sing.”

And they do, Hope and Penelope playing piano and Josie singing. After a minute or so, the siphon is joined by Penelope, who also starts to sing.

It is in that moment that Hope decides that she will not let anything ruin this. No one and nothing will destroy what they have. She will do everything to hold on to them and to be as happy as she can. For her parents, so that their sacrifice was not in vain, for herself, for Penelope Park and Josette Saltzman, she will do better.

As Hope is finishing the last few notes, Penelope is looking at the tribrid’s fingers, saying, “No wonder your hands are this skillful when you are used to doing this.”

“You are so weird sometimes,” Hope says.

“I’m just turned on by your magical fingers.”

“You know you can tell us what’s troubling you, right?” Josie says.

“Sure,” says Hope, shaking her head as she looks at her fingers.

Penelope rolls her eyes as she says, “I know all this relationship business is new for you so let me tell you that this is how it goes. When you are upset, you tell us. You’ll feel better and we can help you. You can tell us everything without fear of judgment or without having to worry that we don’t care. You talk to us. Got it?”

“That’s not it,” Hope says calmly. “You know about my issues. I’m messed up and it’s not my intention to drag you down with me.”

“Firstly, you’re not messed up, Hope,” Josie says seriously, “and secondly, do you expect us to just do nothing as we watch you suffer?”

“You read my psychological assessment and you know about me and my family and yet you still believe I’m not messed up? I didn’t even mean it in a self-deprecating way, more as a fact. Because _I am_ messed up, and so is my family.”

“So what?” Penelope says, her hazel eyes staring into Hope’s blue ones with a calm intensity. “Do you think that changes anything? We are here, are we not? You didn’t force us here, more like the opposite, in fact. Mikaelson,” she says, rolling her eyes and taking one of Hope’s hands, “get it through your thick skull that we want to be here, want to be with you. And part of that is opening up.”

“The same goes for you, you know,” Hope says quietly. “You’re the one to share the least, Penelope. We've read mine and Josie’s assessments but not yours. You never talk about things that bother you.”

“What’s there to talk about? Not everyone can have as tragic of a life as you, darling.”

“Your parents, for one,” Josie answers.

“There isn’t anything to tell.”

“Which means there is a lot to tell,” Hope observes dryly. “Look, I know all about trying to get out of talking about something you don’t want to and normally I wouldn’t push, but you just gave this speech about talking what’s bothering me, so, go on, love, spill.”

“What goes for us also applies to you,” Josie adds because Penelope remains reluctant.

“I told you, I hate being vulnerable.”

“So does everybody,” Hope replies, unimpressed. “Well, if you want me to open up, you’ll have to do the same.”

“You know what?” The hazel-eyed girl stands up and opens a drawer in which a bottle of whiskey is stored – birthday present from Uncle Kol. “Let’s at least make it fun. Since we never properly finished last time, let’s play truth or dare.”

“We didn’t finish for a good reason.”

“You won’t run away this time, darling.”

“Don’t make me do it again,” Hope urges.

“C’mon,” Penelope pleads, “it’s a good way to get to know each other better. You can ask all about my asshole parents.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Josie says.

“Fine,” Hope says, taking the whiskey bottle out of Penelope’s hands and taking a big gulp before taking out three glasses. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“I’ll start. Truth,” the witch says, eyeing her filled glass.

“If you could create a Patronus, what memory would you focus on?” Josie asks.

“I see you still love the happiest memory question.”

“I upgraded it. You like it?”

“It’s sweet. Hm, happiest memory – I don’t know. I- I really don’t. There- I- I don’t think there is one specific memory. It’s more- Damn,” Penelope sighs, chuckling. “Uh…”

Hope and Josie have never seen her struggle with words like this. Usually Penelope has her way with words like no one else Hope knows, never struggling to find the perfect expression. It is fascinating to see her struggle.

“Do you know when you, like, look back at a period in your life and think, ‘This was great. I was happy then’, but you can’t point at one specific moment? You live and you notice that things are going well but you don’t think about it too much and one day you remember this time and it’s just this feeling – this feeling you want to go back to, desperately, while knowing that you’ll never be able to, because you can’t turn back time, because you are a different person now. I feel like this when I think about my first relationship with Josie, for example.”

Silence follows, Josie and Hope both lost in a time that Penelope just described. 

“I believe it is your turn, Mikaelson,” Penelope says after some time.

“Truth,” Hope says.

“Who’s hotter, me or Josie?”

“Oh, you are evil,” Hope complains. Penelope blows her a kiss.

“I won’t be offended if you choose her,” Josie says. “I mean, she’s really hot after all.”

Smacking her lips repeatedly, Hope keeps looking at both girls, deep in thought. “Hmm,” she hums. “I don’t know.”

“Hope, it was a very simple question,” Penelope says, amused.

“Right. OK. You’re both hot and beautiful. Who’s hotter? Doesn’t matter.”

“You’re cheating.”

“It’s a hard question!”

“Answer!” Penelope demands, trying to keep a straight face.

“OK!” Josie laughs at their antics. “I think Josie’s more beautiful but you’re hotter. Happy now?”

“Yes, thank you. Jojo, truth or dare?”

“More beautiful but hotter,” Josie repeats to herself. “Huh. Uh, truth.”

“Ever been high?” Hope asks.

“Like, drug high?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Put that on the list of things we have to do, then.”

“What drugs are we talking about?” Josie asks uncertainly.

Hope shrugs her shoulders. “Whatever you want.”

“I’m not sure I want to do drugs at all.”

“Weed,” Penelope speaks up, “we at least gotta smoke weed together one day. You don’t have to, obviously. Hope and I are perfectly capable of getting high on our own, but do you really wanna miss out, Jojo?”

“Fine,” Josie gives in.

“Sounds like a plan,” Hope says. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Alright, tell us about your parents. “

“What is there to tell?” In a completely casual tone, Penelope narrates, “My parents wanted a son. Which I wasn’t, obviously, so they resented me from day one and they treated me accordingly. When my mother finally got pregnant again after trying for so long, with a boy this time, they immediately sent me away, from school to school, until I got here, since they didn’t have a purpose for me anymore.

“Oh,” Penelope adds after taking a sip form her whiskey-filled glass, “my parents are the leaders of my coven.”

“Do you want me to murder them?” Hope asks, only half joking. There is more to this, Hope can feel it. Penelope is holding something back for some reason.

“You have a brother?” Josie asks. “You never told me.”

Penelope shrugs. “Didn’t wanna talk about it. And no, don’t murder them, I do not fancy becoming coven leader. I’m honestly glad to be away from them.”

Deciding against asking more questions about the witch’s family, the girls continue.

They play for some time, opening another bottle at some point, because the first one suddenly turned out to be empty.

“I actually don’t know many songs,” Hope says after answering a question about her favorite song to play on the piano (“Either River Flows in You – it is so much fun to play – or Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Feel free to make a wolf joke, Penelope.” – “How dare you? I’m not that unimaginative!”).

“I’m used to playing the classics. You know, Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, these guys. And, of course, Jazz. I love Jazz. But I’m not that familiar with more modern music.”

“So,” Penelope asks, “you know Fur Elise? Or however you pronounce this French abomination.”

“Yeah. And it’s German.”

“Who cares about European languages? French, German, all the same. When are you declaring your love in form of a song for me?”

“I don’t compose or write songs and you do know that you are speaking English, right, a European language?” Hope points out.

“Tsk, darling, I’m fulfilling a stereotype. We are Americans, are we not?”

“Why not?” Josie asks. “You paint, why not add music?”

“I don’t know. It just never crossed my mind that I could do it.”

“You should,” Penelope declares. “I deserve a song that will live on for forever in history as the greatest love gesture in Hope Mikaelson’s life. But I won’t complain about paintings either. Lots and lots of painting, darling.”

“Yeah,” Hope drawls, “you won’t be getting either.”

“Excuse me, Mikaelson?”

“I don’t paint for others. I don’t paint for others to look at what I did or to sell and make money. Painting is my therapy, no one is supposed to see what my subconscious puts on the canvas.”

“Mikaelson, darling, I expect a portrait.”

“I don’t know, Penelope, you will have to wait a long time for that to happen.”

“No manners,” Penelope chides.

Most of the question are innocent and do not evoke deep emotional reactions. That is, until much later in the evening, when the alcohol showed its effects on the two girls without vampire blood running through their system.

“What’s the thing you feel most guilty about?” Penelope would never ask this question in a clear state of mind, the whiskey loosening her tongue, allowing her curiosity to take over. She has wondered about this question ever since she read Hope’s psychological assessment. What would a girl like Hope be most guilty about?

Straightening up, as if to prepare herself from a physical blow, Hope takes a long look around her room.

“Henry,” Hope answers with a forced calm voice. “Have you even met him?” She doesn’t wait for Penelope’s answer, continuing, “Because of me a bullied, innocent kid died. I’m the reason he’s dead.”

Josie expected Hope to say her parents’ death, not Henry. Truth to be told, she hasn’t even thought about Henry since learning about his death.

“And it’s not like with my family where I’m the one to suffer. His family lost him because I wanted to see my dad. Well, the one person he had, who gave a shit about him, died as well, so… God, people just die around me,” Hope says, more to herself. “I would say his friends lost him too, but he didn’t have any. Why? Because people are shit. He was innocent, not involved with my family, just another student who was fucking bullied by his asshole wolf classmates. He only wanted to become a hybrid so they would stop bullying him.”

Agitated, Hope goes on, “If I don’t give Henry my blood, he doesn’t commit suicide, I don’t get suspended, I don’t go back home, I don’t kidnap my mom, Henry doesn’t get his heart ripped out, my mom doesn’t get tortured and doesn't burn to death as a vampire, something she never wanted to be, Josh doesn’t get murdered, I don’t accidently kill someone, my dad and uncle don’t commit suicide. But I did. I fucking did.

“It all started with me selling him my stupid blood. The last thing that happened to Henry was him being buried behind a wall of stones, forced to stay there for years for a crime that wasn’t really his fault. It was my fault. Yes, imagine that, being buried alive. Welcome to my life. I told him to be calm and that we will be friends once he gets out because he was so scared. And he _had_ to listen because he was sired to me. He stood there, forced to sing, forced to be calm because I told him to. Then he was murdered not even a day later. What a horrible way to die.”

Josie and Penelope are too stunned to stop Hope from ranting. And maybe it’s a good thing she gets this out of her system; all the anger and sadness, she has to let it out.

Bitterly, Hope says, “They didn’t even mention Henry in my psychological assessment. I signed his death sentence when I gave him my blood, even if I didn’t realize that at the time, but hey, he’s not important enough to appear in a stupid fucking psychological assessment. Does anyone here even remember him? Does anyone care? The school didn’t change one bit. The werewolves are still the same toxic pieces of shit that they have always been. The vampires haven’t changed either. When’s the next one committing suicide here? Hm?”

Hope paces through her room, clenching her jaw. “I hate this game so much,” she says. “So much.”

“It’s OK,” Penelope says, placing her hands on Hope’s arms. “It’s OK.”

Her words seemed to have triggered something in Hope. Her face turns angry, so unbelievably angry. “What about this is OK?” she says calmly, then again, this time shouting. “What about-” her voice cracks, “a bullied, lonely teenager getting murdered is OK?”

Penelope forces her in a hug. At first Hope is fighting it, but the witch casts a spell to keep her in place. Trying her hardest not to cry, Hope buries her head in Penelope’s neck and soon feel’s Josie arms as well.

Hope pushes them away, not yet finished.

“You know what the worst about this is? What I feel really guilty about?” She laughs a hollow, bitter laugh. “I didn’t care. He died and what did I do? Hm?” She looks from Penelope to Josie, shaking her head, trying to see something in their eyes.

“Go back to school, try every spell ever to lift the cloaking spell I, myself, put on my mom, kiss fucking Roman Sienna who was one of Henry’s bullies, goof around with him on a road trip. I didn’t think about Henry for _one second_. I didn’t. I didn’t care that I was crushing on a guy who bullied him. I didn’t care that he died, I had my own problems. Then, one day, I look at the passport I bought with the money he gave me for my blood and – it just hits me,” she says, a tear running down her face, “what I did to him. And I broke. I just broke. I got him killed and I did not care. I didn’t give a shit. What does that say about me?”

Hope is full on crying by now, hating every second of it. She loathes crying. 

Josie hands her a glass of water as Penelope holds the tribrid. “Drink.” Hope does as told.

“You’re not a bad person,” Josie says soberly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“How can you say this after what I just told you?”

“Because I see you right now, the current you. I mean, look at you. OK, maybe you didn’t care all too much back then but what about now? Does now not count? It’s horrible what happened to Henry, it is, but what good is it doing you to beat yourself up over this? It won’t bring him back to life. It just makes you miserable. I’m sure his family wouldn’t want this. Henry wouldn’t want this.”

“I’m one of the few to still think about him, perhaps the only one. If I stop…” Hope’s eyes are big, afraid.

“I didn’t know him but I’m sure many people will remember him. You don’t have to feel like you’re the only one to keep his memory alive,” Penelope says.

“Yeah, you didn’t know him. But I knew him – and he knew me. He knew who I was. He was the only student who knew that I am Hope fucking Mikaelson. We’re from the same pack,” Hope explains the answer to the question that she saw coming up in Penelope’s eyes.

“I let him get bullied, I should have stopped them, should have helped him. I should have done _something_. Do you believe any of the wolves feel guilty that they drove him to committing suicide?” Hope scoffs.

“You’re putting too much on yourself. You had your own life with your own problems and saving him wasn’t your responsibility. The people who bullied him and the person who killed him are to blame, Hope, but not you,” Josie says seriously, compassionately.

Penelope is at a loss. She does not know what to do. Everything they say seems to agitate Hope even more and make it worse.

“Is that the world we live in?” Hope asks. “A world in which you excuse me from being a bystander when I knew someone needed help?”

“Hope,” Josie sighs, “please.” The siphon looks at the tribrid and takes her hand. “Breathe. Just take a few deep breaths. OK?” She leads Hope to the bed, gently pushing her down. “Answer me this: Do you blame me?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t your-” Hope stops, eyes darting up to Josie. “I know what you’re-”

“Why not?” Josie asks again, calmly.

“You didn’t know him like I did. He wasn’t part of-"

“Why not, Hope?”

“Because it wasn’t your fault!” Hope snaps. “You weren’t responsible for it!”

“And neither were you. You made mistakes. So did we. All of us. But you can’t live like this. That’s not living, sitting here and blaming yourself for everything. Things would be different if you made other choices, yes, but you didn’t kill him – you did not kill Henry Benoit, and you didn’t kill your mom or your dad, other people did. Please, Hope, it’s breaking my heart – our hearts – seeing you like this. Look at what you have now. Seriously, I mean it.”

Hope listens, looking at Josie, at Penelope, at her cat and her room, at all the photos.

“If you didn’t make these choices, we wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t have us. Focus on that. OK?”

As Hope is remaining quiet for a while, Bexie jumps on the bed and climbs on the tribrid’s lap.

Penelope joins Josie, putting an arm round her shoulder and kisses the siphon’s cheek in gratitude.

“I don’t deserve you,” Hope says quietly, calm again at last.

“Let us decide that,” Penelope replies.

Head rested on her left palm, fingers in her hair, Hope whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“This is what we talked about. You can talk to us, tell us everything.”

“Thank you. For… yeah.”

“Always.”

-

The next morning, Josie wakes up due to Hope’s soft voice. The tribrid is already dressed in her workout outfit, ready to go. In her bed, however, are two girls who are still very much affected by all the alcohol from last night.

“Get up,” Hope says. “You wanted an outlet for your inner darkness. Wake up, ladies.”

Penelope grumbles nonsensical curses while Josie slowly rolls out of bed.

“Since I know you two can’t take alcohol, I made you anti-hangover potions.” Hope places one bowl on the nightstand for Penelope and hands the other one to Josie, who at least looks half-awake by now.

“Thanks,” the siphon murmurs. After successfully managing to not spit the potion out, Josie goes to the bathroom, getting dressed and ready for the day. Penelope is still in bed.

Hope places a few kisses on the witch’s cheek, but she hardly reacts. Rolling her eyes, Hope pulls the blanket away.

Penelope slowly sits up and grumpily looks at Hope. “That was totally unnecessary.”

“Get dressed.”

As Josie gets out of the bathroom, she looks at the canvas which looks distinctly different to what Hope was working on yesterday. The noticeably smaller painting is not quite finished yet, but she can already see buildings that she believes she would find in New Orleans if she went there right now.

Unfinished is a spot slightly right to the center. It looks like something – or someone – is supposed to be hanging down from the roof. It is hard to make out.

If she had to compare it to something, she would say it looks like the scene in Hannibal in which Hannibal throws Rinaldo Pazzi out of a window (“Bowels in our out?”), with a rope clinging to his neck.

OK, that is unlikely, that Hope just randomly decided to paint a scene out of Hannibal. Besides, when did she paint this? The paint looks fresh.

Josie decides not to worry – for now. However, she will definitely ask Hope about this later, after training.

A few minutes later the girls are on their way outside. Hope explains to them that they will be jogging (“Just round the school”) and that they will join Dr Saltzman afterwards to train.

As they are rounding the school, over the grass just outside and through the forest, Hope thoughts drift back to last night and to Henry and the unfinished painting that Josie and Penelope hopefully haven’t noticed. She could not bring herself to add the last and most important part. Completing the painting would hopefully get the image out of her head but it would also make it real – and she cannot, under any circumstance, believe for one second that this could become reality.

She would freak out.

Training at the dock with Dr Saltzman and the girls moves by so fast that Hope barely notices it and it ends with the tribrid almost breaking Alaric’s arm to show off in front of her girlfriends.

Hope tells them to go ahead, saying that she needs a moment alone.

The truth is, Hope is still an introvert and spending all this time with Penelope and Josie left her a bit exhausted, in need of a break. So she takes this moment, sitting down on the wooden panels, letting her feet hover above the still water, feeling the wind in her hair, the sun on her skin, and breathes.

This place reminds her of the lake in the bayou where her mother’s funeral was. Almost every day she sits here and relives this fateful day on which she had to say goodbye to her mom. And every day she feels the same pain.

Talking about Henry did not make her feel better. She feels awful, in fact, at being reminded what she did to him. Certain things should not be talked about, as they just leave you miserable. What good is it for her to talk about all the terrible things that she has done if all it does is leave her depressed and self-hating?

Talking about events or thoughts or anything that depresses you does not help, it just makes you depressed, or at least that is why Hope avoids talking about all the things that happened in her life.

Hope has wondered about that many times during her therapy sessions with Emma. Why is she being forced to talk about all the trauma she went through. Rarely has this helped in any way, mostly she was left feeling worse than before.

What is the point of talking about it? She would rather never talk about certain things ever again.

Annoyed with her own self-pity and constant sadness, Hope walks back to the school. She decides to skip showering so that she can catch up with Josie and Penelope, who should be having breakfast at the moment, probably just waiting for her.

On the way, she runs into Lizzie.

“Stealing my father wasn’t enough?” Lizzie says. She doesn’t even sound pissed, just sad. “Is she happy?”

“I didn’t steal her,” Hope says meekly.

“Is she happy?”

“I think so.”

“I’ll kill you if you hurt her,” Lizzie threatens, and after staring Hope down, she turns around, leaving the tribrid behind.

“Lizzie, wait.” Hope runs after her and grabs her arm.

“What?” Dark circles underline the siphon’s eyes.

“She’s your sister and I will never take her away from you. You are and always will be Josie’s priority, don’t doubt that.”

“Doesn’t feel like that.”

“A little independence won’t hurt either of you,” Hope says, “but I will tell her to spend more time with you if that is what you want.” She, for one second, thinks about inviting Lizzie to spend time with them, but that would only end in disaster.

“I could use my sister,” Lizzie says helplessly, suddenly crying.

“Uh.” Hope awkwardly hugs Lizzie, unsure as to what triggered this emotional outburst. She leads the blonde into a nearby classroom, away from people.

“Sorry, sorry.” Lizzie is facing away from Hope, wiping tears away.

“What happened?” Hope asks softly, sitting down in front of the siphon.

Lizzie is often an emotional mess with heavy outbursts, but Hope has never seen her cry before. Now, seeing the blonde trying her hardest to regain composure, Hope wonders just how much Lizzie relies on Josie for emotional support – and how much of Lizzie’s current state is the result of Josie not being there for her. 

Searching sincerity in her eyes, Lizzie only looks at Hope.

“Boy trouble,” she says simply.

“Did Rafael –”

“Dump me? Yes, he did. Once he saw that I’m – forget it. Just leave me alone.”

“Hey, if you like it or not, we are family now,” Hope says, flashing a small smile, “and I will be there for you if you need me.”

“Dating my sister doesn’t make us family,” Lizzie scoffs.

“It doesn’t? Well, I consider you part of my family now, so tell me to rip Rafael’s heart out and I will.” Again, Hope is only half joking. “Come on, move your pretty, little ass,” the tribrid says, standing up and holding out her hands for Lizzie to take.

Lizzie laughs at that. “You might have Satan and my sister wrapped around your fingers, but I won’t fall for your _tragic_ past and your annoying ability to be good at everything.” 

“Not? Damn. And I thought we could upgrade from threesomes to foursomes.”

“In your dreams.”

Josie spends the rest of the day with her sister, while Hope is in her room, only reading. Hope doesn’t know where Penelope is, the witch went MIA after History of Magic ended.

-

The anniversary of her father’s death is coming nearer and nearer, and Hope feels less and less clear about her life. Her dreams are getting worse with each night and her overall mood is dropping considerably.

Only Penelope and Josie prevent her from slipping even deeper into whatever she’s feeling. She can’t really name it, can’t sufficiently describe what is going on in her head.

Penelope and Josie are holding her together. Without them she might just lose it.

Every night, Hope is either held by Penelope or Josie or both, depending on who is there. With them, their warmth, it’s easier to sleep, to feel safe and loved – and heaven knows she needs this, now more than ever.

“What’s this painting showing?” Josie asks. She and Hope just came back to Hope’s room after a walk. Penelope is in her room, showering.

“Which one?”

Josie points at it, carefully observing Hope’s face while doing so. The painting is still unfinished, cast to side in favor of new projects.

“Oh, that,” Hope says in a casual tone, “is just one street in New Orleans.” Hope looks at Josie, raising an eyebrow at the brunette’s inquisitive look.

“Why didn’t you finish it?”

“Didn’t feel like it,” Hope says, breaking off eye contact. 

“What is supposed to be in the missing spot?” Hope’s gasps subtly. Josie would have probably missed it if she weren’t paying attention so closely. Chewing her bottom lip, Hope looks indecisive.

Finally, Hope quietly says, “Henry. This painting, it shows how we found Henry, his body was hanging from a roof, heart missing. I – I don’t know.”

“What are you not telling me, Hope?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“OK. You know,” Josie says, changing the topic, “apart from my sore muscles, training is really cool.”

“Yeah? Can you feel your inner darkness disappear?”

“Oh yeah, totally. My darkest inclinations are thoroughly satisfied.”

“Well, I’m glad I could be of help.”

“I’m glad you decided to help me.”

Hours later, Penelope joins them and after spending the evening together, they fall asleep in Hope’s bed, with Bexie curled up against Josie.

Penelope wakes up to someone hitting her repeatedly. Annoyed and grumpy, Penelope slowly opens her eyes and – suddenly wide awake –

“Hope,” she says. The auburn-haired girl is twitching, crying and muttering in her sleep.

“Hope,” Penelope repeats, trying to shake Hope awake.

“’at’s goin’ on?” Josie mutters sleepily.

“Ask her,” Penelope says.

“Hm?” Josie sits up, looking at Penelope, then at Hope.

Hope becomes more distressed and agitated by the second, crying desperately, breathing heavily.

“Hope!”

The tribrid jerks awake, eyes big and lost.

“Hey, you’re safe,” Penelope says, cupping the girl’s face, forcing Hope to look at her.

Hope’s eyes convey a terror Josie has rarely seen in her life. Her gaze uncontrollably darts around the room.

“You are awake. You just had a bad dream,” Penelope says slowly, soothingly. “You are safe.”

“We are safe,” Josie adds gently, having a suspicion as to what Hope might have been dreaming about.

Hope crawls back, away from the girls, and sits up. She blinks rapidly and tries to even out her breathing. Slowly, as Josie and Penelope keep telling her that they are all safe, Hope seems to come back to reality.

However, she looks still terrified. After a moment of tense silence in which Hope stared holes into her girlfriends, she suddenly hugs them, holding them tight and crying all over again.

“Hey,” Penelope whispers softly, “talk to us.”

But Hope only urgently shakes her head, not letting go of them.

“I – I can’t lose you,” Hope murmurs, barely able to speak. “I can’t lose you.” She says the same words over and over again, sounding frantic, possessed.

“You won’t,” Josie says, trying to get out of Hope’s grip, but the tribrid holds her in place with all her strength. Hope could break their necks if she squeezed harder.

“We are all alive, Hope. Do you hear me? Listen to me. We are all safe and nothing will change that.”

“No, no, no,” Hope mutters obsessively, scaring Josie. “You have to, it’s the only way. I can’t lose you.”

“What do we have to?” Penelope asks. Josie can tell that she is getting scared too, trapped by Hope’s strong arms, at the mercy of someone who doesn’t seem to be in their right mind right now.

“Turn. You have to turn,” Hope says, suddenly letting them go, staring at them.

Seeing her eyes now, something in Josie’s stomach drops. She has never seen anyone look so afraid and frantic. She is sure that the look of terror will make its way into her own dreams.

Hope’s face is full of tears, full of fear and desperation.

“You have to turn into vampires,” she says finally. “It’s the only way,” she whispers.

“Uh, let’s discuss this at another time,” Penelope proposes.

“No! I can turn you into original vampires. Or upgrade you. I know the spell! I’m powerful enough to do it! Nothing will be able to kill you. I will never lose you.”

Josie is sure that this is not the first time Hope has thought about this. She sounds like she has this all planned out.

“You will lose your magic.” Hope looks at Penelope. “I’m sorry but I can’t change that. Then-”

“Please, calm down. No one is going to die on you. Do you hear me? No one is going to die.”

“EVERYONE DIES!” Hope explodes. “That’s the problem! And I cannot lose you! Don’t you understand? I let you in,” she says brokenly, “I made a mistake. I should have never let you in. I signed your death sentence-”

Josie and Penelope exchange panicked looks.

“You- no, it’s too late. It’s too late. I can’t shut you out now. I already let you in and now I will lose you. No, no, no, no, I can’t lose more people. I can’t lose you. I-”

And suddenly everything goes black.

-

When Hope wakes up, she feels good, well-rested.

This, however, changes abruptly as she remembers last night.

Oh no, she lost control. Stupid anniversaries.

Penelope and Josie are already up and moving, and only notice that Hope is awake when they see her burying her face in her hands.

Sitting down on both sides of her, the witch and the siphon each take a hand away. Hope, instead of looking at them, focuses her attention on the mattress. 

“How are you feeling?” Josie asks.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I – I don’t know what to say,” Hope confesses.

“You had a nightmare, it’s OK. Don’t worry,” Penelope assures her.

“I don’t expect you to turn into vampires, of course, that was just my nightmare talking.”

“You sounded like that wasn’t the first time you thought about turning us,” Josie says.

Hope looks at her, head still tilted down, and says, “I have thought about it.”

“We talked about that,” Penelope says. “And we agree that is way too early in this relationship to do something as drastic as turning into vampires.”

“No, of course, I understand.”

“However, if, say in a couple of years, we are still together, we may consider this option.”

“But you’d lose your magic. I don’t want you to give up a part of yourself for me.”

“I’m making my own decisions, Hope. If I choose to turn, then because I want to, OK?”

“I’m so sorry. That you have to put up with -” Hope vaguely gestures at everything, “me.”

“When will you get it that we are here because we want to? Josie and I both know what we would be getting into. Stop apologizing for being you.”

“I need to paint,” Hope says, standing up.

“Do you want anything? Coffee, tea?” Josie asks.

“Just – uhm, actually tea would be nice.”

“And breakfast?”

“OK.”

“Great. I’ll get us breakfast,” the siphon says.

As Hope is staring at the empty canvas for minutes, trying to come up with an image to paint that will not come with disturbing thoughts, Josie comes to stand next to her, placing a tray filled with food and tea on the stool next to Hope.

“Thank you.”

“Will you be OK if we leave you? You know, classes and all this irrelevant stuff.”

“I can stay if you want,” Penelope adds.

“Oh, I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“Hope,” Penelope says sternly, “do I need to remind you to be honest with us or have you learned your lesson?”

“Look,” Hope says, eyes still on the canvas, “I want to be alone, but this doesn’t mean I should be alone. What you do is your decision. If you are in the mood to watch me paint for a couple of hours, feel free to join me. I assure you I won’t have a mental breakdown.” Hopefully, she thinks.

Penelope opts to stay, kissing Josie goodbye as the brunette leaves for History of Magic. As there is nothing to do, the witch takes one of the many books Hope owns, gets comfortable on the tribrid’s bed, with Bexie at her side, and reads, keeping an eye on Hope.

Virginia Woolf was a beautiful writer, Penelope thinks, as the words of ‘ _To the Lighthouse’_ pull her into the thoughts and world of the book, letting reality fade away to a faint memory, a distant symphony of sounds and lights.

Hours pass in which nothing other than Hope using the bathroom and Hope playing with Bexie happens, all while Penelope reads.

Hope uses a series of illusion spells to entertain the cat. From cloaking spells over replicas of her body to changing her appearance to different people, Hope keeps Bexie entertained.

In contrast to last night, Penelope can’t help but be confused as to how this is the same girl, the same tribrid who freaked out over their possible death just a few hours ago. Hope looks nothing like the girl from last night, no frantic eyes, just relaxed, playing with her cat. 

By now, Hope has gotten so used to the constant presence of people in her room that she feels comfortable wearing next to nothing, as they have seen her with absolutely nothing – now only in tank top and shorts.

“Hope?”

“Hm?”

“This birthmark on your shoulder, is it like, a wolf thing or just a regular birthmark?”

“It is a wolf thing, I suppose. This-” she turns her back to Penelope and points at the mark, “signals my belonging to the crescent pack. My mom had the same mark on the same spot.”

“I knew it, I’m so smart.”

“Sure.”

“Hey, is it OK if I dip? I have something to do.”

“Sure. Can I help you?”

“No.”

“Well, what is it?”

“Nothing important.”

“Penelope, what are you hiding?”

“What? Nothing.”

“You have been absent more than once recently. What is going on?”

“Nothing you have to worry about. I promise.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

“It’s about my family. I need to sort something out. Everything is fine, don’t worry.”

-

In many ways, dealing with Hope is like walking into a minefield. You never know what might upset the tribrid. She seems to find an issue with everything if she wants to, no matter your intentions. Occasionally, she will even purposefully misinterpret things you say and twist them. She can be like a rock, emotionally, not giving a chance to get through her, and unwilling to give you any leeway.

Without realizing what has happened, you receive a cold shoulder, finding yourself somewhere far outside the protective walls that Hope has built many years ago, now forced to momentarily tear them down again, for they never stay down for long.

And sometimes she is the exact opposite: Soft, sweet, supportive, understanding.

Everything can change in one second, with one false word, with one misunderstood intention on Hope’s part. Hour long talks suddenly explode into shouting fests about people Josie has almost forgotten; nightmares can turn into revelations that Hope kept carefully hidden; questions about paintings lead to nothing other than evasion – it is always different.

The worst part about this, it is hard to tell which Hope you are currently talking to, as she is so good at keeping a neutral face, an even voice, balanced words – you can walk further and further into the minefield that is Hope Mikaelson without noticing until everything around you blows up.

Sometimes there is nothing easier than walking right into Hope’s heart, where you are welcomed like a long lost love, with hugs and kisses and a never-ending amount of affection; sometimes it feels like breaking into a high security prison, where every protective measure, form walls to armed guards, tries to keep you away, never for you to return.

Hope Andrea Mikaelson is a hard case to crack, a never ending challenge, someone who keeps surprising you with hidden depth and talent, someone who is loyal to an absurd level, a girl with the strongest of wills, who will always do what she believes to be the best, no matter what happens to her.

Selfless as she is, she would rather break her own heart than do anything that would risk the safety of the people she loves. She can be quite stupid in this regard.

Nevertheless, Josie would not change one thing about her. She loves the challenge, the always evolving, seemingly impossible task to keep up with the tribrid.

Thinking about it, if they, Josie and Penelope, talked to Hope on different days, where she might have been in a different mood, they might not be where they are right now.

In their short time together, Josie wished for Hope to be easier, to not be forced to walk on eggshells at certain times in fear of an emotional outbursts, yes, but she loves everything about it. There is no one like Hope and Josie would not change a thing.

On a good day, no one can blanket you with a feeling of love, admiration and safety like Hope can. On a bad day, Hope can be the most difficult person Josie knows (including Lizzie), while still leaving a feeling of shrouded warmth. Maybe that is the reason for why Josie could never quite let go of the girl, even after all the animosity between Hope and the twins. 

If Josie was given a chemistry set, a construction set, a chance to build a perfect girlfriend, she would throw it away, for perfection is redundant – if Hope (or Penelope, for that matter) were perfect, loving them would remain an impossibility. Perfection eliminates the challenge, the good and the bad without which there is no love. For Josie, loving someone with her whole heart requires imperfections. For Josie to love with her whole heart, like she always does, she gives her whole self over to love, it can’t be easy.

Maybe because loving herself would be impossible, maybe because the people she grew up loving the most – Lizzie, Alaric, Caroline – are all characterized by their faults. Whatever issues, whatever reason, whatever experience led her to this mindset, she loves people, complex, real, maybe also troubled people.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Josie says, smiling as Hope regretfully tears her scrunched eyes from a grimoire set up on her lap. She is writing something in a language Josie doesn’t know.

“Soulmates?” Hope echoes distantly, putting the grimoire and pen away. “You’re asking if I believe that everyone has a person somewhere on the planet waiting for them to show up and epically fall in love with? That destiny marks two people to have an unparalleled bond of emotional intimacy?”

“Maybe not everyone, but do you think they exist? That some people have them?”

“No,” says Hope quietly.

“You’re so cynical. Why not?”

“I can’t believe that something as good as soulmates exist in this world. Sorry.”

“So, you don’t think we are soulmates?”

“Well, no.”

“I believe in them,” Josie says happily. “And I also believe you can have more than one. And maybe you and Penelope are my soulmates.”

“You sound naïve. But if anyone deserves a soulmate, it is someone as good as you. If soulmates are a thing, then I hope only people deserving of this kind of love have them.”

“You deserve a soulmate, too, Hope.”

“Do you think bad people have them?”

“I don’t know. Yeah, I guess so.”

“I don’t think my dad had one. Or anyone in my family.”

“Really? You don’t think your aunts and uncles are together with their soulmates or have met them in their thousand-year-long life?”

“I think,” Hope says, “that when you are lonely for a long enough time, you easily fall in love as a trick of your brain. Our brains hate being lonely.”

“Is that – are you speaking from experience?” Josie asks, sounding hurt. “Are we only in a relationship because you were so lonely that your brain tricked you into something?”

“I didn’t say it is a bad thing, did I?” Hope says calmly, intertwining their hands, looking at their fingers with a far away look. “My family is happy, and I am happy with you and Penelope. Isn’t that enough? Do you need more?”

“No,” Josie whispers, “I suppose I don’t.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“I’ll get us something to eat,” Hope says, getting to her feet and leaving Josie back on her bed.

-

Magic-charged air welcomes Hope on her way. Students are whispering and looking at something happening outside. At first Hope ignores them like she usually does, but then she hears shouting and, what really catches her attention, Penelope’s voice.

Priming her ears to listen to her girlfriend, Hope slowly walks towards the sound of the voices.

“I won’t leave,” Penelope says angrily.

“Penelope, you will come with me! Right now! You have brought enough shame to your father for dating this abomination,” a woman shouts.

Hope gets outside and sees her girlfriend squared off with a woman who looks like Penelope if Penelope were to age at least twenty years.

“I’ve already talked to your headmaster who failed to notice me that the Mikaelsons are infecting his school and informed him off your imminent leave. He will regret this grave error in judgment.”

“Hope is not like them,” Penelope replies fiercely. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“She’s a _Mikaelson_!” her mother roars. “Do I really need to remind you what this family has done to our coven?”

“No, but-”

“We’re going.”

“But-”

“You do not have a choice in this!”

“What is going on?” Hope asks.

“Who are you?” Penelope’s mother demands

“I suppose I’m the abomination,” Hope says, glaring at the woman. “Hello, Mrs. Park, I assume.”

Mrs. Park looks like she is about to explode in rage, huffing an angry breath. “How dare you speak to me, scum?”

“Excuse me?”

“You and your family, running around like you own the world, only caring about yourself.”

“It’s OK, Hope,” Penelope tells her, trying to sound reassuring. “Let me deal with her.”

“It sounds like she wants to take you with her.”

“This is over!” Mrs. Park says impatiently. “We are leaving. Now.” She grabs Penelope by the arm and drags her away.

“No! Wait.”

“It’s gonna be OK, Hope. Don’t freak out. Everything will be fine,” Penelope says as her mother forces her away.

“Let her go!” Hope sends a harmless hex at Mrs. Park which forces her to let Penelope go.

Swiftly, Mrs. Park turns around and hits Hope with a spell that forces the tribrid on her knees. Hope did not expect to be attacked like this. 

Penelope stops her mother from doing more, standing in front of the woman. Hope is about to use a spell she might later regret when Penelope stops her as well.

The witch stands in front of Hope, offering a forced smile.

“Anticlimactic end, isn’t it?” Penelope chuckles sadly. “Hey, it’ll be alright. Just call me or use your magic and you will always find me,” she says in a hushed tone so that her mother can’t hear her. 

Before Hope can do or say anything, Penelope kisses her, and when Hope opens her eyes, Penelope and her mother are gone.

Standing alone is Hope, who can’t understand the world anymore.

-

“She’s gone! Her mother took her.”

“What do you mean gone?” Josie asks.

“Penelope’s mother, she just took her home.”

“What? Why?”

“Because of me. Because Penelope dared to date a Mikaelson.”

“What do we do?”

Hope looks at Josie with a blank expression. All her emotions turned inwards, safely guarded inside to prevent a meltdown.

“I mean, we have to do something. This can’t be it. She can’t be gone just like that,” Josie says.

“I don’t know. Do you know where Penelope lives? But even then, what can we do?”

“She never mentioned where she comes from. But we are witches, it’s easy to find out where she is,” Josie points out. At least as long as Penelope isn’t being cloaked.

“I can’t do this, Josie.”

“Do what?”

“ _This!_ This is about the worst thing to happen! You know how well I handle people leaving me.”

“Hey, Penelope isn’t really gone. She’s fine, well and alive, just away. We only have to figure out how to get her back.”

“You wanna know what this painting is depicting?” Hope asks, referring to the painting Josie has asked her about. “It doesn’t show Henry – it shows Penelope, heart missing, exactly like Henry. This is like the beginning of one of my nightmares. I can’t let this become reality, Jo.”

“Hope, breathe,” Josie orders, placing her hands on the tribrid’s shoulder. Josie would like a moment to freak out too, but she suspects that Hope will lose it if she does that. So she tries to stay calm and think this through.

“Nothing good will happen if you lose your head. We can figure this out. We will figure this out, I promise.”

-

After a particularly bad nightmare, Hope wakes up in Josie’s arms. She snuggles deeper into the brunette, holding her tight, afraid that if she lets her go Josie will also slip through her fingers.

The warmth and calmness coming from the sleeping girl is enough to soothe Hope for the moment, allowing her to just live in the moment. She breathes in deeply to memorize exactly how Josie smells, as she is afraid that she will forget it – Penelope’s smell is already inaccessible, just out of reach of her consciousness.

She still has Josie, Josie is still here with her, and they will figure this out. Everything will work out in the end. Nothing to worry about.

Hope pulls Josie even deeper.

Penelope is fine. She is safe and probably just bored. Hope can almost hear her saying something about angst.

The next few hours are a muted routine of her usual day. Breakfast, school, talking, breathing, whatever else one does, it all feels different. Hope can’t focus, she feels numb.

Maybe today isn’t all bad, Hope thinks, as she sees a familiar car.

“Auntie, I expected you ages ago. Where have you been?” Hope asks.

The smile on Rebekah’s face vanishes after hugging her niece.

“I have bad news,” she says.

Hope groans. “Not more bad news. What is it?”

“I’m afraid you have to come home.”

“What? But I can’t go.”

“I know you just found someone you fancy, and I hope you will introduce me to your girlfriends before we leave, but you can’t stay here. At least until this is all over.”

“Why not? What is going on?”

“Our family is under threat. We can’t protect you while you are here, and we can’t guarantee everyone’s safety at this school. I’m sure you are not willing to risk your classmates’ lives.”

“But I can’t leave right now.”

“Is this life or death?” Rebekah asks gently.

“Well, no.”

“Then it can wait.” 

“I need to help someone. Penelope, my girlfriend, she needs help.”

“How long will that take?”

“No idea.”

“What is the problem?”

“Her mother took her home against her will and now we have to get her out.”

“Hope, love, your girlfriend will have to wait. I know you are capable of defending yourself, but as your aunt it is my duty to keep you safe. Staying here will put innocent children at risk and we don’t have the time to help your girlfriend. Maybe back in New Orleans.”

“I’ll get Josie,” Hope says dispiritedly.

Josie is in her room, spending time with Lizzie when Hope knocks and comes in.

“What is it?” Josie asks after seeing Hope’s face.

“My aunt is here.”

“Then why do you look like someone died?”

“I’m going home. Back to New Orleans. Someone is attacking my family. I want you to meet my aunt before I go. Come on,” Hope says emotionlessly, sounding numb. She walks out of the room, not allowing Josie to say anything.

Looking uncertainly at Lizzie, the blonde twin encourages Josie to follow Hope.

Josie runs after the tribrid.

“What now? How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know, Jo, I don’t know. Everything just turned to shit.”

Moving her hands through her hair, Josie doesn’t know what to say anymore.

“I guess I’ll see you through astral projections,” Hope suggests. “Or – I don’t know, is that the end?”

“The end? You mean…? No, no, Hope – no. Don’t even think about that. Our story does not end like this. Hey, I can come with you to New Orleans if –”

“No. Your dad wouldn’t allow it, you would leave Lizzie behind, and you are safe here. I’m not putting you in danger.”

“Fine, but you won’t break up with me.”

“No, I won’t.”

“What about Bexie?”

“Oh – would you look after her?”

“You won’t take her with you?”

“I think she should stay here. She loves you and I don’t want to take her on such a long drive and put her into a new environment when I don’t need to. Will you take care of her?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” Hope says, tears in her eyes. “How did I just lose everything in two days?”

“You didn’t lose anything, sweetheart,” Rebekah says, Alaric following her. “See it as a break for a yet undetermined length. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you just have to wait some time and will be back to normal. You are so young, Hope, it will be fine.”

“Josie, this is Rebekah, Aunt Rebekah, this is Josie.”

“So you are one of the girls who has accomplished to steal my niece’s heart. You must be someone very special. Pleased to meet you.” 

“Oh, uh, thank you. Nice to meet you too. I learned a lot about you in class.”

“Nothing positive, I assume,” Rebekah laughs, glancing at Alaric who simply shrugs.

“No comment on that,” Josie says sheepishly.

“Hope, are ready to go?” Rebekah asks.

“You haven’t met Bexie yet,” Josie says.

“Yes, thank you, Josie,” Rebekah beams.

“Who is Bexie?” Alaric asks.

“My cat,” Hope says.

“Cat? Your cat? Since when – you know what? Doesn’t matter.”

Hope vanishes for a second, coming back with the small black cat in her arms.

“Aren’t you a lovely cat?” Rebekah says in a childlike voice, playing with the cat’s tail.

Hope pets Bexie one last time, then hands her over to Josie.

“I will leave you with Josie, OK? Behave. I don’t want to hear complains, you hear me?” Hope tells Bexie. “Goodbye, my fluffy love. I will miss you.”

Hope kisses her index and middle finger and presses them against one of Bexie’s paws, smiling as the cat pulls her paw away.

“I suppose it is time to say goodbye,” Hope says, turning her attention to Josie.

“Not goodbye,” Josie replies. “This is not the end. I expect to see you once you arrived in New Orleans.”

“OK.” Hope leaves a kiss on Josie’s cheek, quickly hugs Alaric, and leaves with Rebekah.

“Josie,” Alaric says.

“Hm?”

“I believe you have a cat now.”

“It looks like it. We better treat her well or Hope will murder us all.”

“Good idea. Are you OK? You know, with Penelope and Hope both gone.”

“No.”

-

It turns out that they aren’t on their way to New Orleans. Hope didn’t notice until already driving for hours; when she focused on the streets after spending the majority of the time lost in thoughts, she realized that this is not the way to their home in the city her father used to be king in.

“Where are we going?”

“You are in the land of the living again?” Rebekah chuckles. “Trust me, love, your current situation isn’t as bad as you think it is.”

“I only asked to where we are going,” Hope replies.

“Do you remember the house where you met us for the first time?”

“Yeah. Why are we meeting there?”

“Freya didn’t want to risk anything with Keelin being pregnant. She believes New Orleans to be too dangerous. Sorry I lied earlier but we can’t know who to trust right now.”

“So, what exactly happened?”

“We all got letters from someone too much of a coward to tell us who they are, describing a detailed scheme to take us down. Nothing to worry about, honestly, and we won’t involve you in this mess, we just need to know you are safe with us while we rip hearts out.”

“Great. Kill whoever you must but please hurry up.”

“So impatient to get back to her girlfriends,” Rebekah smiles. “You have no idea how happy I am that this is your biggest worry.”

“I’m glad that my suffering fills you with happiness,” Hope says, deciding to let her aunt believe that the separation from Josie and Penelope is indeed her only worry.

“Hope,” the Original pouts, “you will survive a few weeks without them. You have hundreds of years ahead of you, someday you will forget this even happened.”

“Didn’t I tell you that you would hear my constant complaints if your advice ended in disaster?”

“But my advice worked, didn’t it?”

“It did, yeah.”

-

Reunion with the rest of her family is a quick and uneventful affair. Freya is stressed to no end, Keelin, while pregnant, being the calm one. Kol complains non-stop about being here, as he believes this whole situation to be an unnecessary overreaction.

Hope agrees with him.

However, she understands why her aunt isn’t willing to take any risk, as she has lost a child before so every threat, no matter how insignificant it may seem, is treated with respect by the Mikaelson witch.

“There is nothing that can kill us,” Kol complains.

“That might be true for you, Rebekah and Marcel, but not for me or my wife or my unborn child or your own wife, brother, so please do me the courtesy and be quiet,” Freya replies.

“Who is this imbecile anyway? Who leaves letters that warn us?”

“Someone who is confident,” Marcel says seriously. “We shouldn’t underestimate whoever is behind this…”

Hope leaves them, not interested in the most recent family drama. Instead, she walks down the porch. A sad kind of smile creeps up on her face as she looks at the table in the garden, the place where she painted with her dad after meeting him for the first time – maybe the best day of her life.

She can’t quite believe that the table is still standing here after a decade.

Of all the places she did not expect to spend the anniversary of his death at, this house might take the cake. Tomorrow will be the day, the anniversary of the day on which the most wicked man to ever walk on this planet sacrificed himself to save his daughter’s life.

Painting, maybe playing piano, spending time with Josie and Penelope, holding them tight while she wouldn’t tell them why she is particularly sad – that is how Hope pictured how tomorrow would go.

Reality, once again, likes to surprise her.

Tired from the long drive, Hope goes to bed.

Falling asleep is harder than she expected it to be. She didn’t realize just how dependent she has become on Josie and Penelope being there, normally their warmth calming her enough to allow her to fall asleep.

Now, without them and her father even more prominently in mind, sleep is eluding her.

After trying for hours, tossing around repeatedly, Hope accepts that tonight will be a sleepless one. She thought that these days were behind her – and it scares her how much of an effect two girls could have on her for something so simple and normal as sleep.

No painting equipment is here so she can’t do that. No instruments either. Nothing, really.

Hope checks her phone. Not nothing, for a change – a text from Josie.

_You ok? Are you there yet?_

_Yeah. Sorry I didn’t message you earlier._

_I can’t sleep_

Hope puts her phone away as Josie is certainly sleeping, leaving Hope with nothing to do once again.

To her surprise, her phone starts ringing.

“Hey,” Hope says. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“You didn’t text me, so I decided to stay awake until you would. I was worried,” Josie answers. “Why can’t you sleep?”

Sighing, Hope sits down on her bed. “You should sleep, Jo. Get some rest.”

“Not until you tell me what is bothering you.”

“Fully explaining that would probably take a week,” Hope says tiredly. Hearing Josie’s voice helps, though. She feels a little better. 

“Give me the short version,” Josie says softly, sounding equally as tired but also serious, convinced, leaving no room for evasion.

“Anniversary,” Hope says simply, as her tight throat doesn’t allow for more words.

“Oh. Your dad?”

Hope nods. Then, after a few seconds, she realizes that Josie can’t see her. “Yeah. And no one is here to cuddle me to sleep, so yeah, totally your fault that I’m still awake.”

“I miss you too. Can I do anything to make you feel better?”

“No. I just have to get through today. Go to sleep.”

“OK. Call me if you need to talk.”

“Sweet dreams.”

Leaving her phone in her room, Hope goes downstairs. She walks into the kitchen and finds herself a glass of water.

“Hey.”

“Since when are you here?” Hope asks, after almost dropping the glass. She looks at her aunt, who is sitting at the kitchen table.

“Too long. Can’t sleep either?” Freya speaks quietly as to not wake anyone up.

“No.”

“I’m sorry for forcing you to come here.” Freya is rubbing her tired eyes.

“I get it. And I wouldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to anyone at the school because of us.”

“It never ends, does it? How many enemies can one family have?”

“No idea,” Hope says, her words fading into the darkness of the kitchen. “But hey, none of them are here because of you.”

“No, probably not. Or perhaps they are.”

“Well,” Hope says, “it doesn’t matter. Whoever it is and whatever reason they have, we are all targets.”

“Isn’t it great being a Mikaelson? My son or daughter will have countless enemies just because of a name.”

“Yeah, I know. It sucks.”

“At least our newest member will have a great aunt,” Freya says, smiling at Hope. “Oh, I have heard about Josie.” There it is, the smug tone, the happiness that Hope has been waiting for.

“Yeah.”

“I told you so.”

“You did.”

“Perhaps you will listen to your aunt in the future,” Freya says, still smiling. “And how dare you, Hope? You ask Rebekah on relationship advice for girls over me and Keelin? What have I done wrong?”

“Uh, I don’t know why I called her that day. Sorry, next time I will call you. Or what next time, now is the time.”

“Why, what is it?”

“One of my girlfriends-” Hope ignores the glint of happiness in Freya’s eyes, “was forced to go home by her mother. Her family apparently hates us, and I don’t know what to do next.”

“It never ends,” Freya sighs. “Are you sure that talking to them won’t be of use?”

“Penelope’s mother almost exploded in rage when I talked to her. You should have seen her. No,” Hope says, shaking her head, “talking won’t solve this problem.”

“Well, if that is the case,” Freya smiles, “we are still Mikaelsons.”

“We won’t kill them, Aunt Freya,” Hope chuckles.

“Shame.”

-

Dates are important to Hope. Certain days played a huge role in her life and she likes to remember them and their yearly anniversaries.

The first majorly important day of her life was the day she first met her family, on which she bonded with her father. Soon following is the day that marked the seven-year-long separation of her family.

More important than the physical separation that was forced on this date, however, was the emotional one about two years later when she saw her father murdering people, covered in his enemies’ blood. This day marked the end of her father’s presence in her life for many years. She heard nothing from him, no letters, no phone calls, only rumors at school.

Then, of course, are multiple obvious dates. The day Henry died. While feeling not as important as the others at the time, is now one of the worst days of the year for her.

The day her mother died, the day she killed someone and activated her werewolf curse, and finally the day her father and uncle decided to end their lives – certainly the worst three days of the year, and they all happen in such a short timespan that they feel less like individual bad days and more like a bad part of the year.

In between are dates that are not as burnt into her memory but ones that she still remembers like they were yesterday, like Freya and Keelin’s wedding, the day Grandma Mary died and the following funeral with the pack, many Christmases and New Year’s Eves with her mom, or Rebekah and Marcel’s wedding – how Rebekah almost didn’t go through with the ceremony, as doing it without her brothers was too hard for her.

Their wedding was one of the hardest days in Hope’s life; when it happened, her father’s death had only happened a few months previously and being reunited with all her family at a supposedly happy event almost broke Hope.

Adding to this list now is the day she allowed Josie and Penelope into her hearts, on which she took a great risk, a shot at happiness.

She hopes she doesn’t have to add another date – the date of their separation. Maybe she is being overdramatic.

She probably is.

Everyone keeps saying how she just has to hold on for a few weeks and everything will go back to normal. But they are wrong, in Hope’s opinion.

Nothing will go back to how it was. Yes, she will get back to school and Josie, assuming that this whole situation doesn’t end in disaster. After all, Always and Forever is very much fragile and easy to destroy. 

But then what? Penelope is still gone, and Hope has no idea on how to get her back. Penelope’s mother seemed like her mind is made up, so convincing her is off the table. Running off with Penelope means that they can’t go back to school, since the Parks would easily find them there, and thus her life is not back to normal.

Hope can’t see a way with which her life will revert to what it was not even seventy-two hours ago.

Perhaps, she thinks, this is not a bad thing, as her life has not been the greatest lately.

One thing is for certain: hard times and change is coming.

Hope looks out of the window, observing how the early sun is dying the blue sky in an orange tone. The trees are filtering most of the sun light, shrouding the garden in shadows, with little light shimmering through.

Birds are chirping loudly.

Hope would immediately paint what she is seeing, if only she could. On one of the worst days of the year, she is ripped out of her normal environment, away from her coping mechanisms. Painting is more important today than it is on any other day of the year. No painting, no music, no Penelope and Josie, no nothing – at least she still has her family.

But – there is a catch about that too. 

There is a funny thing about dates. They are so easy to miss. Sometimes you look at the calendar and realize you completely forgot something important.

Hope would bet that her family is unaware of what day it is.

She is sure that they haven’t forgotten. It’s just, for immortal beings such as half her remaining family are, time becomes irrelevant. Dates are irrelevant. They don’t realize it’s the anniversary of their deaths. Not for sure. They might feel it.

They don’t look at a calendar or their phone and think about what day it is and what that date means. Hope wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t know what month or even year it is. To be fair, they do remember her birthday, so credit to them for that.

If you live for so long as Rebekah, Kol, and Marcel have, you are prone to forget dates, for if not, they would have to remember something every single day.

And they have more important things to do than memorize important days to feel horrible once the day returns every year.

Perhaps Hope should forget them too. After all, if she didn’t know what day it is, she would not feel horrible right now. Nevertheless, she can’t just forget, it is not in her nature to do so. The past defines her, probably too much, but she can’t help it. And forgetting the dates would be too easy, her guilty conscious can’t allow that.

Hope is proven correct: no one acknowledges what day it is; no one seems to be aware.

Compared to other anniversaries, this one is strange. Normally every anniversary wrecks her for a couple of days in which she would lock herself into her room, crying, doing nothing, maybe paint or read. Often, she would write letters to the dead, as if giving an update into her life and what they have missed.

This rhythm was already destroyed after the anniversary for her mom’s death and the anniversary for her activating her werewolf curse was almost forgotten, both thanks to her girlfriends. Hope only remembered the latter after Josie and Penelope fell asleep. Well, her nightmare woke them up that night and scared the hell out of them, they just don’t know the reason for why she was so upset that night.

Today’s anniversary is different to all of them. Hope is mostly outside, walking through the forest, holding everything in. Numb, only superficially, but this is the best word to describe how she is feeling.

It is hard for her to express her feelings when she is under people, even when it is her family. They have bigger worries than Hope freaking out over something that happened so long ago.

She briefly talks to Josie. But being reminded of their separation only worsens her mood.

“What are you doing?”

Hope is standing at the table in the garden, moving her hands over the wood, feeling it.

“Nothing.”

“Wanna come in? Dinner is ready,” Davina says.

“Not hungry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“I will leave something for you in case you change your mind.”

There are multiple reasons for why Hope chose to stay away from friends and relationship all her life.

It is not just that she is afraid of the people she loves getting hurt, it is not just that she is afraid of losing them, it is not just that she is terrified of showing her true self, with all her issues, of someone seeing who she is behind all the walls, the sarcasm, all her protective measures, it is not just the fear of rejection that follows – it is all of this.

Losing someone, whether through death or just separation, regardless of it being temporary or for good, it does something to you. It leaves you empty, kills a part of you. Hope doesn’t have many parts left that can be killed – at least she thought so. People have left her too much already. This is too much.

Empty, fucking empty. She let them in her heart and now they are gone. And now her heart is empty, aching, yearning.

She just learned a new lesson: The crippling loneliness that she is so used to only amplifies when you decide to let someone in and lose them. She can’t imagine what would happen if any more people died on her.

Hope continues to stare at the table. Her mind moves through a collection of memories of her dad – seeing him for the first time, painting with him, their last talk (she sheds a tear at that), phone calls that she only seems to remember once a year, his blood-covered face…

Her surrounding and any sense of time vanish in her tour through memory lane. She just stands and stares ahead.

Sometimes Hope hates her mom. One would think that losing their parents would not leave such a big impact. Sure, for some time it would crush you, but Hope’s feelings, thoughts, her everything is, to this day, greatly affected by their passing. However, this is not surprising. Not when you tell a child how family is the most important thing in the world, how family is above all, Always and Forever. Family, family, family…

When Hope first attended the Salvatore School, she was excited for friends, for kids her age. But quickly all she was interested in was reuniting her family. Friends weren’t important above all, family was. So Hope tried to get her family back together, ruining it in the process.

This is another reason why she is unwilling to seek out her family right now. She destroyed Always and Forever; she lost the right to get their help.

Somewhere in the back of her head does she know that this is bullshit, that her family blames her no bit, that it is not all her fault. The voice in her head that says this sounds a lot like Uncle Elijah.

“It’s getting late.”

Rebekah places a hand on Hope’s shoulder which is enough to send the tribrid over the edge. She turns around to look at her aunt – and falls into her arms.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Rebekah says, laughing slightly.

But Hope just hugs her as if the Original was her only lifeline.

“Hope, are you OK?”

Eventually Rebekah forces Hope out of her arm, but still having her hands on her niece’s shoulder. “Tell me,” she says firmly.

“I’m so sorry,” Hope says, trying to blink tears away, lips trembling.

“I don’t know for what, sweetheart,” Rebekah says gently, smiling at Hope.

“I ruined it. I ruined everything.”

“Let’s get inside, get you a hot chocolate and we talk.”

A few minutes later, Hope is sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of hot chocolate in hand, her aunt sitting next to her.

“So, tell me what is bothering you, hm?”

The smile on Rebekah’s face feels like a burn in Hope’s eyes.

“Do you know what day it is?” Hope asks quietly, looking away.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“It’s the anniversary of - of Dad and Uncle Elijah’s deaths.”

“Oh, sweetheart, why didn’t you say something? Come here.” Hugging her niece, Rebekah is slowly stroking Hope’s hair.

“I don’t deserve this. I destroyed our family,” Hope says. “Your wedding, your face when you fully realized that my dad and Elijah wouldn’t be there for your wedding, I can’t forget it. Your face is burnt into my memory as a constant reminder for what I did to our family.”

“Hope,” Rebekah says seriously, sighing as she is struggling to find the right words. “Hope, you made decisions like we all do. You acted like a Mikaelson. Of course, your choices have consequences, but, Hope, you didn’t destroy our family. Not at all. You saved us.” Rebekah smiles at her niece, who looks unconvinced.

“Look at it like this: Your father, as much as I love him, was a bad, bad man, but he died out of a selfless act of love. You changed him. Never in my thousand years did I believe my brother would die for someone else, not even for me or Elijah, but you made that happen. Elijah died in peace because you managed to do what he never could. Without you our family would be God knows where. We certainly wouldn’t be together. Hope, you didn’t destroy anything. You are the best thing to happen to us. Your mom, your dad, your uncle, they all swore to do whatever is necessary to keep you safe when you were born, and so they did. You can’t blame yourself for their decisions.”

“But how do I deserve this love? I didn’t do anything to deserve it.”

Rebekah chuckles. “That is what family is for – unconditional love that you would give everything for. You are mistaken if you believe that you have to earn love. You don’t. Love is something that you are given, and you hopefully don’t throw this gift away. We all did. Don’t make the same mistake. Think about your girlfriends. Do you “deserve” their love, did you earn it, or did they just give it to you? Let me say it as simply as I can: Without you, Hope, there wouldn’t have been an Always and Forever any longer.”

“Elijah said the same thing before his death. It’s just… I don’t know. Somewhere in the back of my head do I know all this, but it’s just so hard to accept it. I feel like I don’t deserve your love and forgiveness.”

“Some day,” Rebekah says, with a far away look in her eyes, “some day in the future you will look back at this time and wonder what was going on in your head. We can’t change the past. Either you move on or the past will destroy you. Don’t let that happen. Family is important, I get it, but you have to focus on yourself, on your future and happiness. I made the mistake of hanging on to my brothers for too long at the expense of my own happiness. We love you, we will always love you, but you need to let us go to a certain extend for you to find happiness.”

“I will try.”

Rebekah smiles. Hope tries to.

-

If they were at least things to do, something to distract her, then it wouldn’t be _that_ bad, but her days consist of doing about nothing. Time moves excruciatingly slow, life is horrible, she is in a state between numb and breakdown.

By now she has painting equipment and she talks a lot to Josie, and she used to talk to Penelope, but that stopped about a week ago. Penelope isn’t answering her phone calls anymore, which causes even more concern.

At least Rebekah’s pep talk managed to get through her, changing her opinions somewhat. Thanks to her aunt, she can focus on Penelope and Josie without her parents constantly occupying her thoughts, although they are still present.

Family members are coming and going all the time to do something, Hope doesn’t know. And no one seems to want to involve her. She doesn’t ask either. She trusts them to tell her about important developments. 

“You know,” Josie says, “Penelope and I had this grand plan for your ideal day. We had it all planned out. Didn’t age well, did it?” 

“Have you heard from her?” Hope asks. A feeling of warmth spreads through Hope at this information.

“No. Not since last week.”

“Me neither,” Hope says disappointedly.

“Do you think her parents did something?”

“Hm, all they had to do was take away her phone. Maybe you should astral project yourself over to her.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Josie confesses.

“Don’t worry. Go to my room and take my grimoires, the spell is in one of them.”

“Good that you only have like a hundred grimoires.”

“You’ll find it. I would do it myself, but I have no idea where Penelope is and I have no possessions of her with me and we also aren’t sharing the same blood. You at least have one of the three, so you should be able to do it. Locator spell first, projection second, but the instructions are pretty clear,” Hope explains.

“All right. I will do my best.”

“How is Bexie?” Hope asks.

“Sad,” Josie says, glancing to her left. “She misses you. All she does is lie in bed, she hardly eats, she attacks us when we try to pet her. You should have taken her with you.”

“Give her a kiss from me.”

After the talk with Hope, Josie took Lizzie with her and went to Hope’s room.

“How exactly does she expect us to find one specific spell in between the thousand here?” Lizzie asks as all the grimoires are sprawled out on the ground.

“Hm.” Closing her eyes, Josie holds a hand over the books and lets magic guide her. Suddenly one of the books snaps open. Josie kneels down and smiles as her eyes scan the page. “There you go.”

Lizzie takes the book and reads for herself. “OK, we need candles, sage, salt, and a map. Then we need to draw a circle and this seems all very complicated.”

A few minutes later, the twins are set up in Hope’s room. They have already narrowed Penelope’s location to a secluded area in Louisiana (“What the fuck are they doing in Louisiana? Don’t tell me Hope and Penelope are secretly together.” – “Don’t be ridiculous, Lizzie.”) and are now ready for the astral projection.

“Thank you for helping me,” Josie says earnestly.

“Duh. I’m your twin.”

“Still. I mean, you are helping me to get Penelope back. I really appreciate it.”

“Are we gonna do the spell or what?”

Josie holds out her hands for Lizzie to take. Eyes focused on the incantation written in the grimoire, they begin chanting.

_“Demitte moi. Demitte moi…”_

Suddenly Josie feels something shifting in the air around her. She opens her eyes to see the insides of an unknown house.

“It worked,” Josie says and searches for Lizzie, finding her standing behind her.

“Of course Penelope’s family is rich,” Lizzie comments.

As they carefully make their way through the house in pursuit of Penelope, they see a lot of the high and white walls that are decorated with old and expensive-looking paintings, and the occasionally vase standing around. Lizzie almost walks against one.

They hide in a room when they hear someone walking close by.

“What are you doing here?”

“Penelope!”

“What are you doing here?” Penelope repeats with a low voice. 

“You ghosted us,” Josie says, “so we had to check on you.”

“Great. I’m fine. Now go.”

“Why? Talk to us.” Penelope’s appearance is a far cry away from her usual immaculate look. She looks exhausted; her nails are cut short; her hair is disheveled; she wears no makeup, which exposes the bags under her eyes and the general tiredness on her face.

“If someone sees you, I am screwed, OK? You can’t be here,” Penelope says urgently.

“Relax, Satan, no one will find out.”

Penelope looks ready to argue, but after clenching her jaw, she seemingly accepts their presence. “Fine. But be quiet. You will leave the second we hear someone coming.”

“All right. So what happened?” Josie accepts. 

“My parents took my phone when they found out that I was still in contact with Hope.”

“What is their problem with Hope?” Lizzie asks.

“Is that relevant?”

“I wanna know too,” Josie says.

Penelope sighs and takes a few breaths.

“Long story short: My coven used to work with the Mikaelsons from time to time. Sort of like a quid pro quo situation, you know? My coven would help them, they would help us. Whatever. But then they betrayed us and almost eradicated the whole coven. It happened all so long ago, I don’t even know why my parents are still so hung up on it.”

“Hope will be delighted to hear that,” Lizzie says dryly.

“Don’t tell her,” Penelope says, her tired eyes shining with urgency. “She would just feel guilty for something that is not her fault and she doesn’t need more of that.”

“Is that why you read Hope’s psychological assessment? To research your coven’s enemies?” Josie asks.

“I was curious about her, but not on the behalf of the coven.

“Wow,” Lizzie deadpans, “you’re dating your family’s enemy, how romantic.”

“You need to leave me alone,” Penelope says, sounding simultaneously serious yet reluctant. "Seriously, Jojo, you need to let me go. My future is here.”

“What is it with you and Hope trying to end this?” Josie says, annoyed. “Penelope, we won’t end it like this. If we end it, then only on our own behalf, not because someone else forced us. Tell me how to help.”

“There is nothing you can do. I will never get out of here.” Penelope looks at her door. “Someone is coming,” she says. “Leave.”

“We will get you out of here. If we have to burn down the entire house, we will do it.”

“I know you are a pyromaniac, but you _need to go_.”

-

Hope is sitting on the porch, playing songs on a guitar that Marcel has brought one day. The instrument has become a welcome distraction over the last few days. 

Only half-conscious about what she is doing, she plays songs that remind her of Penelope and Josie.

Choices define us – everybody knows that. In the end, it doesn’t matter what you think, what matters is what you decide and subsequently do. _Acta non verba._

And Hope Mikaelson has a choice to make.

An important one.

She can continue her life without Penelope and Josie, try to cut them out of her heart and move on.

Or she fights for them, for their future.

Both choices have consequences, obviously. If she decides against Penelope and Josie, then, of course, she will have to live without them, with a hole in her heart.

Option two leaves her on a path away from her family. In their current situation she cannot leave her family. They are under threat, she can’t just go.

Hope has just finished a conversation with Josie in which the siphon told her about her visit to Penelope (leaving out the part about Hope’s family murdering Penelope’s coven).

Either she waits for this situation with her family to end and then she goes back to school, or she does something. Now or never. She could wait. She could. But Hope has no interest in going on with how her life currently is. This limbo state is horrible. No one knows how long this situation will continue. Sure, she could wait until she is back at school and then decide, but when will that be? How long is she supposed to wait? 

Either she decides for Penelope and Josie now and does something, or she sticks with her family and cuts off her bonds.

It is a choice that should be easy but proves to be quite hard.

Family above all, Always and Forever…

 _‘Suae quisque fortunae faber est.’_ If only it was so easy… 

Maybe she has spent too much time on her own, she can quote Latin sayings. Oh, maybe she is just losing her mind.

“You should go for them,” Freya tells her. “No matter what happens, we will still be here and love you. I don’t know if you can say the same about them.”

“Brennt barn forðast eldinn,” Hope replies. “I lost too many people. It would be better to cut them out now before something happens to them.”

Freya looks at her as if she was a car. “Det är som mörkast innan gryningen. You may think so now, but only because you’re scared. And Hope, you definitely need to spend more time with friends.”

“Hey,” Hope says defiantly, “you taught me spells in these strange languages, did you think I wouldn’t do my work and learn at least a little? How am I supposed to create my own spells without knowing the fundamentals of the languages? My French needs work, though,” she adds, since her French is awful.

“Berre bok gjer ingen klok. But back to the relevant topic.”

“Without knowledge, no power and you know that,” Hope replies, raising an eyebrow.

Freya shakes her head, amused. “Get your girlfriends,” she says. “More time alone and you might invent your own language for spells.” 

“Are you sure?” Hope asks. “You might need my help. I can’t abandon you.”

“Hope,” Freya says, rolling her eyes in disbelieve. “You won’t abandon us. Sometimes you really have the most ridiculous ideas.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. We got through crisis after crisis before you could even form a single sentence, we will be fine. And quite honestly, not much is happening. We have been under attack many times and this is by far the most uneventful one. We still don’t even know who is attacking us. Hope, I might sound like a hypocrite now, but only a fool would decide against even the slimmest chance at love. Love requires risk and it is time that you take this risk.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do I have to kick you out or what? Get your girls, come on. Be the gay niece I always wanted.”

“OK,” Hope laughs. “I will. I love you, Aunt Freya.”

“I love you too. But, Hope, be careful. We don’t know if you will be followed so keep your eyes open and keep us updated. Anything suspicious, you call us. Understood?”

“Ek skil…?”

“Your Old Norse needs work too.”

“Sorry, it’s not that easy to learn a dead language. And it doesn’t help that the spells you taught me are all over the place, language wise. And the spells based on Latin are also annoying. They are in Latin, just not really, like, often it’s wrong Latin, you know?”

“I know, I know.”

-

“Are you sure? One hundred percent sure? Like, death certain? I mean-”

“Lizzie, I’m sure,” Josie says.

“And you don’t want me to come with you?” Lizzie asks, not liking Josie’s plan at all.

“If we both go, then Dad will definitely come after us. If you are here to calm him down, my chance at success are higher.”

“Fine! But you will call me every day. I will come after you with Dad if I don’t hear from you.”

“I hope I won’t be gone for long. Give this to Dad.” Josie hands Lizzie a letter. “I have explained everything in there. Where we are, that Hope is with me, what we are doing. I hope this is enough to keep him here but if not, you have to step in.”

“Why can’t he come with you?”

“Penelope’s parents can’t know that he was involved in this. The school would be in trouble. I mean, her parents are already trying to get him fired. Luckily he and Mom own the school so they can’t really do anything about it.”

“I don’t like this. I wanna come with you,” Lizzie repeats.

“I know and I appreciate it. I need you here, though. You know the plan?”

“Yes,” Lizzie drawls.

“Repeat it to me. I need to know that you know where to find us in case something happens.”

“You will take a bus to a station in Louisiana – don’t worry, I have the name written down – where you will meet Hope. From there you two will go to Penelope. Not that hard to remember, I’m not dumb, OK?”

“Sorry, I’m just anxious.”

“Hello! How do you think I feel? Hope left because someone is after her family and now you go on some rescue mission with her. What if someone attacks you?”

“Well, I would be afraid for the poor soul who attacks Hope,” Josie says. Of all her worries, getting attacked is not one of them.

“What happens after you get Penelope?”

“I don’t know.”

“She better be worth all this trouble.”

\- 

Seeing Josie in flesh is so much better than see her as a projection. Finally she can touch her girlfriend again without it feeling like a cold shower. And so she does, taking full advantage of it. Hope hugs Josie for a minute before letting her go again.

“How are you?” Hope asks.

“Considering the circumstances, well, I’d say I’m fine. You?”

“I’ve been better. I’ve also been worse. Let’s get Penelope, shall we?”

Hope drives, her little skills just about enough to get them to their destination, while Josie navigates with the map she and Lizzie used for the locator spell.

All of Hope’s attention is on the street, as she is rather insecure about her capabilities as a safe driver. Josie dying in a car accident is about the last thing she wants to happen.

“Any idea why Penelope is in Louisiana?” Hope asks when they are on an empty road on which the probability of crashing is low.

“Nope. I don’t think she really lives here,” Josie says. “The house gave me more of a temporary vibe. I could be wrong, though.”

“Wouldn’t have Penelope said something about being from the same state as me? She didn’t mention it when she was already there either.”

“Maybe she already thought that we have no future when she got there.”

“Then she is stupid,” Hope scoffs.

“You both are.”

“Hey!”

“You are. And you know it.”

Hope pouts. Being with Josie again feels good, it feels very good.

“You know, maybe this is all an elaborate plan on Penelope’s part for her to get her film-like love story,” Josie says.

“I will kill her if that’s the case,” Hope threatens. “I swear I will rip her head off.”

“Jesus, Hope, calm down.”

“This separation was hell for me, Josie. If she just planned this to have fun…”

“I don’t think she did,” Josie assures her. “You should have seen her. She looked nothing like she usually does.”

“That bad?”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen her like this.”

“Well, all the more reasons to get her out,” Hope declares.

-

At least the drive wasn’t that long. About five hundred meters away from the secluded house, Hope and Josie get out of the car. It is already dark outside, with a clear sky and stars shining.

“Will you remember where we left the car?” Hope asks, as they are walking to the house.

“Uhm, no.”

“Great. Me neither.”

“Ah, we will find it.”

As the house comes near, the girls stop to look at two men who are standing on the porch, guarding the door.

“Are you kidding me? Who the hell is Penelope’s father? The fucking president? Why does he need guards?” Hope asks.

“No, he’s the coven leader,” Josie says, grinning at Hope. “What do we do about them?”

“Sleeping spell?” Hope suggests.

“Sleeping spell, it is,” Josie decides.

Josie walks up to the two men who immediately approach her.

“Hey, can I use your toilet? I’m kinda lost and-”

“ _Ad somnum_.”

Both men fall to the ground, asleep.

“Penelope would be so proud of us,” Josie says, smiling.

“This guy is a vampire,” Hope says, standing over one of the two, feeling his energy.

“Hm, this one’s a witch,” Josie says.

“Why are vampires here? Why do they need guards in the first place?”

“Honestly, I don’t care. Let’s just get Penelope and get the hell away from here.”

Josie leads the way once they are inside, trying to remember where exactly Penelope’s room was. More guards are inside, all seemingly oblivious to the breach in security.

Hope and Josie avoid them. The more guards they see, the more their confidence to win an all-out fight sinks.

“Where was it?” Josie mutters. Last time they just found Penelope on accident, when Lizzie almost destroy the vase and someone came walking towards them.

The vase, she just has to find the vase.

“Who are you two?”

Startled by the deep voice, Hope immediately hits the man who just spotted them with a sleeping spell. His fall to the ground is accompanied by a loud bang.

“Josie, you better find her room soon,” Hope urges.

“Uhm, OK, follow me.”

They continue walking as they hear people coming to find the source of the noise.

Biting her lower lip, Josie desperately tries to find the vase.

“Why is this house so big? How are you supposed to find someone in here?”

“Listen, if you don’t remember where she is, then we have to use magic, all right? They will feel the magic, at least the witches, but it’s our only option.”

“Hey!” a man yells. More figures are coming up behind him. 

“Dammit. Run.”

Hope and Josie make a dash, running along the long corridors, and after taking a sharp right, they open a door and hide in there.

“Long time no see.”

“Penelope!”

The witch looks worse than ever, now with a black eye.

“How – what? This isn’t the same room as last time,” Josie exclaims, confused.

Penelope laughs. “No, it is the same room. Illusion spell. You just can’t find it. The only way to get into my room is when you don’t want to find it. You only ever accidently get to me. Aren’t my parents creative? I guess we should thank the friendly guards for you finding me.”

“Who did this to you?” Hope asks calmly, her finger hovering over the witch’s black eye.

“Father dearest.” Penelope smiles. “I never imagined _I_ would be the damsel in distress. But it’s fitting that you are the knight in shining armor, darling.”

“Can we postpone your flirting to some other time?” Josie says. “We need to get out of here. How many guards are there?”

“But the adrenaline is high now. Enjoy the fun.”

“Josie’s right. Can we take on all the guards?”

Penelope smacks her lips. “I don’t know. I have no idea how many there are. I don’t really get out of this room.”

“Fabolous.”

“Relax, darling. You two are here, what more do we need?” Penelope asks happily.

“We need to get out of here,” Josie says urgently.

“Obviously. Buuuut my room is magically sealed so we can’t really get out, so,” Penelope shrugs. “Luckily for all of us no one can hear us in here anymore so we can talk in peace until we figure something out.”

“We break the seal, run outside to the car and live happily ever after,” Josie proposes. “How does that sound for a plan?” 

“Great,” Hope says. “How do we break the seal?”

“Hope, you do know that I am a siphon witch?”

“Oh, right. Sorry. But how do we get past the guards?”

“You are Hope Mikaelson, that’s how. And it’s not like we are dead weight,” Josie says.

Penelope smiles happily. “What a reunion. How I missed you… oh, Hope, there is something you should know.”

“Hm?”

“I know who is attacking your family.”

“Well?”

Rolling her eyes, Penelope says, “C’mon, think. Well, it’s my family. I think they aren’t really interested in war with the Mikaelsons and this is just about keeping you away from me.”

“Please let me murder them,” Hope says angrily. “Since when do you know?”

“I only found out yesterday when I snuck out to eavesdrop. Got me this, though,” Penelope says, pointing at her black eye. “Magically slowed healing process. ‘How to Beat Your Child Efficiently as a Witch 101’, now for sale, written by my dickhead of a father.”

“I will kill him,” Hope growls, eyes flashing golden.

“Don’t,” Penelope says firmly.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s not worth it. I know you. You would feel guilty later and he is not worth to feel guilty about. And my brother doesn’t deserve to lose his father, even if his father is a terrible man. I think you of all people can understand that.”

“Fine. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Standing at the door, waiting for Josie to siphon the spell, Penelope says, “Well, whatever happens next…”

“Yeah,” Hope whispers.

“My mind reader,” Penelope says fondly.

“Ready?” Josie asks.

“Ready when you are.”

Josie offers her hands, both girls taking one.

Surprisingly, their way to the front door is completely empty. Hope can’t believe their luck. They must have caught a lucky timing.

They burst out of the front door and come to a crashing stop.

“Penelope, what are you doing?”

Hope suspects the man who is currently speaking to be Penelope’s father.

“What is this?” he asks calmly, with a surprisingly soothing voice. “You are Hope Mikaelson, I assume? It must be my birthday.”

Penelope’s jaw is clenched and her grip on Josie’s hand is becoming increasingly harder.

Penelope’s father is surrounded by about thirty men and women who form a half-circle around the porch.

“The Mikaelsons will have no choice but to do whatever I wish them to do now with you in my possession,” he continues with a very calm and pleasant voice.

“Yeah,” Hope says, walking down the porch. “Sounds fun. I have a question, though,” she goes on, quickly glancing at Penelope and nodding at her. “How do you expect to capture me?”

At this all the guards take a step closer.

“My dear girl, I won’t lift a finger. You will do whatever I want you to. Otherwise Penelope will feel the consequences.”

“You are a terrible father,” Josie says. “How could you do this to your own child?”

He smiles contemptuously. “And you, Alaric Saltzman’s daughter. It really is my birthday. The Mikaelsons and the Salvatore School under my control. And you came willingly. For her,” he says in the happiest of voices. “What has my daughter done to you, you poor souls? A love potion? Blackmail?”

“What do you think will happen?” Hope asks, ready to rip his head off. “My family will kill all of you.”

“No,” he says calmly. “History won’t repeat itself. I have heard you are their one weakness. They wouldn’t risk letting anything happen to you. Let’s go to bed, hm? Come on, get inside.”

The guards move up.

Hope looks at them, at Penelope and Josie.

“Father, you are so boring,” Penelope says. “How are we related? _Motus!”_

Penelope’s spell sends her father flying backwards. Hope uses the momentary shock to cast the same spell on a larger scale, knocking all the guards down.

“Run!”

The girls run, hand in hand, with Hope and Penelope sending hexes back at their hunters.

“Invisque!” Josie whispers, turning them invisible. They keep running, now without the guards being able to see them. Soon they vanish under the cover of night.

“Thank you,” Penelope says to Hope, as they stop to catch their breath. “You could have killed them all without breaking a sweat, but you didn’t.”

“You didn’t want me to. And these guards probably all have families too. Why kill when it’s not necessary?”

They continue walking for a while.

“Hope.”

“Josie.”

“We lost the car, didn’t we?”

“Maybe.”

“What is that?” Penelope asks, pointing at something in front of them.

“The car!” Josie exclaims.

“Maybe we didn’t lose it,” Hope says, smirking.

A few minutes later, they are sitting in Hope’s car, driving away from the house, but without a clear destination.

The girls catch up on a lot of talking that they weren’t able to do in the last weeks while driving through lonely land, under the stars. Hope still had the presence of mind to block possible locator spells on Penelope.

“What did your father mean with history repeating itself?” Hope asks.

“One of your family members almost killed my whole coven once,” Penelope says.

“Huh. Can’t say I’m surprised. Your coven is pain in the ass.”

Chuckling, Penelope says, “Yeah, they certainly are.”

“Will your father do something to the school?” Josie asks worriedly.

“I don’t know. I’d imagine he will just pretend that I’m dead. At least I hope so.”

Eventually Hope stops at an empty field and gets out of the car. She walks a bit and looks at the sky.

“You OK?” Josie asks, as she and Penelope come to stand besides Hope.

“Now? Yes, I’m OK. I missed you two.”

“Aw, don’t you feel silly now that you pushed us away for so long?” Penelope asks with a big smile on her face that is tainted by her black eye.

“You know, I was gonna heal your eye, but I think I changed my mind.”

“Hope,” Penelope pouts, “please. Please? I will never kiss you again if you ignore me. Hope, Hooopee. You enjoy this, don’t you.”

The smirk on Hope’s face is answer enough. “Come here,” the tribrid says. She places a hand over Penelope’s black eye, muttering a spell. A second later she watches on as the black eye gets small and smaller until looking completely normal again.

“Thanks, darling.”

Hope takes the opportunity to look deep into Penelope’s eyes. She missed these hazel eyes.

“What do we do now?” Penelope asks.

“We can go back to school and beg my dad to hide your presence,” Josie suggests. “I’m fairly sure he would let you stay.”

“My family would protect you too,” Hope says.

“So… we have all the options open,” Penelope replies, grinning.

“Whatever it is, we will do it together,” Hope says.

“That sounds nice.”

“We have to get my cat, though.”

“How could we forget Bexie?” Josie says in a scandalized voice, smiling as she looks at the stars.

“Of course we do. Bexie is the most important girl in your life, after all,” Penelope notes.

“Do you have, like, a complex to always have the last word or something?” Hope asks.

“Hm. I guess you have an eternity to find out, darling.”

“Hm, yeah, sounds nice.”

“It does,” Josie agrees quietly.

“ _Suae quisque fortunae faber est_. Do you know what that means? It means, depending on how exactly you translate it, ‘Everyone is the maker of their own fortune’. Whoever said that was an idiot.”

“I don’t know. I think they were dead on,” Josie replies.

“Yeah. Didn’t you just do exactly that?” Penelope says. “Make your own fortune.”

Hope hums. “I suppose you’re right. To an eternity of finding out.”

“You do know that I will tease you about knowing Latin sayings, right?”

“I know. I know.”

“She speaks Old Norse too,” Josie says, grinning.

“Josie,” Hope whines. 

“Ohh, even better. We will have so much fun…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that is it. For real this time. I don’t have any plans for more chapters, and I’m burnt out by this fic. I almost just stopped writing this story altogether at the 14k words mark. 
> 
> Following are just some irrelevant behind the scenes stuff and some thoughts that no one ever seems to care about. But I like it when other writers share things like this, so I’ll just do it. Read if you’re interested. If not, great decision, I’ll see you in hell at the latest. 
> 
> I almost posted this chapter while it was still very much unfinished, just to get it out and away. At some point there is only so much Hope angst that you can take before it gets too much and repetitive. I took breaks, worked on other stories and all that shit. I’m really tired. This chapter went through a lot of edits and rewrites and reimagines. This was once supposed to be a short epilogue, then almost turned into a 40k long chapter (which would just be overkill for this story), and now, with a lot of words and scenes cut, it is what you see now. I could have fleshed out this whole Mikaelson/Park situation and switched to Josie and Penelope during the separation time, but I didn’t feel like it. Feels unnecessary and this story is about Hope, not them. 
> 
> I was googling “Old Norse sayings”, hoping that they are correct. Feel free to correct me if they are not. I actually fell into a little rabbit hole for a day with this Old Norse stuff. 
> 
> Anyway. 
> 
> To the writers among you, I have a question and I would love an answer, as I’m going through a little existential crisis: What is your reason for writing? Why do you write?
> 
> One of the many reasons why I started writing in the first place was because I hated how most people portrayed Hope in their fics so I wrote the Hope I want(ed) to see. My view of her character was (and still is) simply different than what most of you (and even the writers of the show in many ways) see. This fic specifically only happened because I am an arrogant arse. I would love to hear your reasons.  
> Is anyone else afraid to find out that what they have written was done before? Like the dialogue or some ideas? It happened to me before and now I’m always afraid that I write something that has been done exactly like I did, and this fear is worse because I don’t read a lot of Hosie stories, less Henelope and literlly nothing else in this fandom. For example, the psychological assessments, has anyone used them before in a fic? I have no idea. I find it hard to believe that no one has done it before me. 
> 
> Lastly, a shoutout to two fellow writers in this fandom: DarthLuffy and thespace_inmyhead. The only fics in this fandom that I currently read are from these two. Thank you for entertaining me, kind strangers.
> 
> All right, enough of my rambling. I will go back to brooding over and starting a dozen ideas that will never see the day of light, feeling like I can’t write anymore and like I should just stop, until the day a fire in me ignites and I write a chapter in like two days. Until then, goodbye, my ao3 strangers. See you in hell. 
> 
> Difficile est satiram non scribere. Am I right? I often wanna do it. (god im so obnoxious haha ignore me)


End file.
